


In Sanguis Virginis Veritas

by gazingatseiros



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), resident evil village
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biohazard | Resident Evil References, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gazingatseiros/pseuds/gazingatseiros
Summary: After the demise of Umbrella's Corporation, you join Blue Umbrella as a soldier with one sole purpose: to kill the remaining bioweapons of the evil corporation. You're sent to a village lost in the mountains of Romania to hunt down your next prey. But you would never imagined that instead of a monster you would find a woman that will turn your world upside down, forcing you to confront the ghosts of your past.
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu & Daughters, Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil) & Reader, Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Reader, Lady Dimitrescu's Daughters & Reader
Comments: 84
Kudos: 335





	1. Igni Anima et Flammei Oculi

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow Lady Dimi's simpers, I hope you enjoy this sapphic fic in which time to time the lore of the RE saga will be mentioned.
> 
> Please, be aware at the tags, specially in the next chapters (I'll continue this fic if people are interested in it), but I promise that it'll have a happy ending and the characters will be okay and learn how to overcome their traumas and heal. Also, note that English is not my native language, so I would like to apologize in advance for any mistakes.
> 
> The fic's title is in latin and it means "In the Maiden's Blood is the truth"!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated ❤️

_Do not fail this mission, or more villagers will die in the hands of that beast._

The words of your captain echoing in your mind makes you shudder. Your grip on the sniper rifle is so strong that you feel your finger’s tendons tensing against the bones of the knuckles. You grit your teeth, uncomfortable with that feeling, but you quickly ignore it, focusing on your mission. You _must_ succeed in your task, or else you won’t forgive yourself for not slaying the bioweapon that's slaughtering the village.

A gust of wind ruffles your hair. You’re grateful that the Blue Umbrella uniform keeps you warm and protects you from the freezing temperatures of that damned village lost in the Făgăraș Mountains, the highest mountains in Romania. No one in their right mind would build a village in that place, much less a castle that towers over the entire village.

But it was clear that there were exceptions.

When you saw the castle for the first time, looming over the mountains, blocking the sunlight and plunging the village into a frightening, almost unnatural, darkness you held your breath for so long that your chest ached, and your throat burnt as soon as you breathed again.

The sound of snow crunching under footsteps alerts you. You aim at the source of the sound. At last, there is your target.

However, you don’t pull the trigger, taken aback with the scene you’re witnessing.

The creature that had come out the castle wasn’t your target, or at least you think so. Blue Umbrella ordered you to kill a bioweapon. But through the sniper rifle’s scope you’re seeing a girl dressed in a black robe. The robe’s hood doesn’t let you see the woman’s face, but you glimpse a sea flock of blond hair. Suddenly, two massive swarms of bugs approach the woman. Your grimace of disgust vanishes the moment the swarms take the form of two other girls, dressed in the same clothes as the blonde one. You aim at the girl on her left and see that her hair color is brunette, almost black. Then, you aim at the remaining girl. You notice a trail of blood running down her chest, staining her red hair.

Suddenly, the red-haired girl looks at your direction.

“Mother. Someone’s there.”

Your heart skips a beat as you lean your back against the tree, in an attempt to hide from the enemies. Because of the sudden movement you made, the tree branch in which you took position cracks under your weight.

You hear the girls hissing at your direction.

“Well, well”, a silken voice echoes through the night sky. “It seems we have an uninvited guest.”

Your blood goes cold at the sound of the voice. Is so smooth that you swear you felt a velvet touch caressing your cheek. You try to breathe slowly, recomposing yourself before looking at the person who the red-haired girl called “mother”.

Your developed hearing catches the unmistakable noise of someone gliding towards your direction. Without thinking twice, you hook the sniper rifle's strap on your shoulder and jump to a branch of the nearest tree, this time being careful to not make any noise at all. Quickly you take two smoke grenades from one of the pockets of your heavy bulletproof vest and throw them as far away as possible. One of the grenades explodes midair while the other explodes after touching the ground.

The gliding noise abruptly changes its direction, moving away from you.

You smirk, taking again the rifle and aiming to the “mother” of these creatures. Another gust of cold wind hits your face, but this time you don’t pay attention to the cold touch, struck by what you’re gazing at.

 _Shit_.

You don’t know if your heart is going to break your ribs because you finally found the bioweapon or because the bioweapon looks _too_ human.

 _Too_ beautiful.

You push your thoughts away. You don’t have time to wonder why nobody at Blue Umbrella told you that the bioweapon has a human form. Thankfully, your target’s true nature is visible, her colossal height betrays it, even from far away.

The knot in your stomach tightens. You clench your jaws, noticing that your thoughts are wandering again.

 _Goddammit. It’s a bioweapon. Pull the trigger. Now._ You command to yourself.

But you don’t pull the trigger, entranced by the bioweapon’s regal aura. It seems to dominate every living and undead creature around it. You scan the bioweapon’s body, which increases your breathing speed.

Unlike the other anthropomorphic bioweapons you saw in the photos of some Blue Umbrella’s old files –you still vividly remember the unease you felt when you read the reports about the Project Tyrant and the monstruous acts of their most famous Tyrant, Nemesis–, this bioweapon has the shape of a woman. Her face, framed by curls of raven hair, isn’t disfigured nor has prominent protuberances, signs of a mutation. Her ivory skin, almost as white as the snow that’s falling from the sky, shines under the pale moonlight. You notice that despite the pale skin, her veins aren’t visible.

You open your mouth in awe when you see the red lipstick on her lips. The cruel and _too_ human smirk on them, highlighted by a golden gaze that roams through the castle’s courtyard. 

Your breath is getting ragged at the pleasant sight of that bioweapon, which infuriates you.

It’s a _monster_.

You heard horrific stories from the villagers about virgin maidens sacrificed in that castle, eaten alive by _vampires_.

Also, it’s another Umbrella’s bioweapon. That’s reason enough to kill her and her “daughters”.

Your grip around the sniper riffle tightens and you aim at the monster’s heart, at the point in which there’s a magnificent black rose. Soon, the monster’s pearly dress will be stained with their own blood. You bet that this monster’s blood is black as her hair.

You pull the trigger.

The shoot was silent and clean. But the bullet doesn’t reach the target.

Your eyes are wide open in surprise.

The sound of the bullet being impaled by a long and sharp claw catches the attention of the other creatures. You can hear their gliding in the distance. You know that you must hurry and hide in another tree before the frenzy maidens find you, but your body doesn’t react. The trace of your sweat itches the back of your neck. However, you still don’t move.

You scream to the night sky as the tree’s branch in which you were becomes smaller and smaller, falling to the ground, dragged by a swarm of bugs.

A crack echoes through the place. You know that you have broken your spine. You know that they know it too. You see the mirth’s sparkles in the maidens’ eyes, their maniacal giggles ringing in your ears.

But they don’t know that your broken spine started to heal as soon as you broke it.

You despise your “powers”, but in that situation you’re glad that you have them.

You’re not going to die in the hands of one of your father’s bioweapons.

The sudden rush of adrenaline that overtakes your body startles the blonde maiden, whose sickle is scraping the neck’s fabric of your uniform. You dodge the attack without effort and take advantage of her unprotected flank to sink the combat knife you were hiding in your sleeve.

The maiden’s cry breaks the silence.

The wound isn’t mortal, but it gives you enough time to stand up and pull out another combat knife. You have a better chance of surviving in a melee combat instead of using your fire weapons. Specially, now that you know that the giant bioweapon can destroy the bullets at the speed of light.

Before the brunette maiden attacks you, you confront the blonde one again. You kick her ankle, making her fall to the ground, and, immediately, you duck avoiding being beheaded by the brunette’s sickle. You smirk, seeing her terrified eyes as you hit her solar plexus with your elbow, taking away her breath. The girl falls to the ground, trying to gasp for air. Her cries of pain are music for your ears.

You pay attention to the blonde one. You recall that the villagers talked about a lunatic girl with blond hair that was always near to the ruler of the castle. That means that this girl is the bioweapon’s personal guardian or something similar, so she’s the most powerful of the trio. You lick your lips at the anticipation of killing your first prey, not bothering to confront the red-haired maiden that’s rushing towards you. You just punch her face at the right time, easily breaking her nose.

More cries of pain fill the air.

You look at the blonde maiden, who’s still on the ground, her hands covering her deep wound, trying to cut the bleeding. When she realizes that you’re going to stab her, she raises her arms in a desperate try to protect herself from the attack, but you grab her wrists with an unusual strength.

However, as soon as you’re going to sink the knife on her chest a monstruous roar freezes your blood and you’re launched into the air. Before you fall to the ground, a dangerous grip holds you in the air. You gasp in surprise as you notice that your feet aren’t touching the ground and the cold touch of something is digging into your stomach.

A painful and high-pitched growl comes from you throat at the awareness that you’re being impaled by the same claws that stopped the bullet before. You sharply gasp when the grip on your neck tightens, choking you without mercy.

If you were a normal person, you would have already succumbed and let the bioweapon kill you and sink her shiny fangs into the flesh of your neck.

But your hate fuels the flames that reside inside your chest.

Before the bioweapon could bite your neck, you dig in her arms the knife you were still holding. The wound doesn’t seem to have hurt your prey too much, but she loosens the grip on your neck, taken aback by your sudden attack and the fact that you managed to make a wound on her flesh.

Perhaps due to the adrenaline of being in a life and death situation, you bite her wrist without thinking that there could be a slight possibility of being infected.

The bioweapon roars at the flinch of pain that overwhelms her senses. She retreats her claws. You sharply inhale. She stops choking you and lets you fall to the ground. You manage to fall on your feet, quickly adopting a defensive combat posture.

You smirk again, waiting for your wounds to heal.

But something isn’t going as planned.

Your wounds aren’t closing.

The blood flooding from the wound of your stomach stains the snow under your feet.

You look at her, the terror etched in your eyes at the realization that you’re going to die in her hands. The bioweapon is heavily panting, not moving the arm you stabbed. The wound you manage to do was worse than you initially thought. But that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re going to die of blood loss within minutes or beheaded by the creature, who’s eyes of flame are staring at you like daggers. But the cruel smirk isn’t painted on her lips.

The bioweapon looks as terrified as you.

The dizziness in your mind makes you collapse to the bloody snow.

“Who are you?”, you hear her velvet voice before your world turns black.

* * *

You wake up shivering and panting. Despite the cold sweat dripping down your naked skin, you feel your body burning as if a million and one candles have been lit in the room.

Wait.

You look down. Through the darkness you manage to see that the only thing that you’re wearing are your pants and a large and tight blood-stained bandage that covers your stomach and chest. You panic.

Where are your clothes?

No. Rather, where are you?

You squirm, but something metallic rasps your wrists, making you flinch in pain. You hold your breath when you notice that your arms are raised, your wrists tied to an iron shackle that hangs on the wall.

_Fuck._

You’re fucked.

You’re _really_ fucked and you know it.

And the yellowish glow that stares at you in the darkness knows it.

The sound of a choir of maniac giggles puts your hair on an end.

They’re here.

The whole bioweapon family is here.

The nausea stuck on your throat prevents you from screaming.

“So, you’re finally awake, pet.”

Your anger and hate rise when you see again the cruel smirk on her red lips.

“Get away from me, monster”, you snarl.

You shudder at the cold touch of leather gloves gripping your chin.

“I have a name, pet”, she says, not breaking the eye contact. You can’t help but to feel small under her towering height. This bioweapon must be even taller than all of Umbrella’s previous Tyrants. “And is Lady Dimitrescu. Do you understand it?”

_Dimitrescu._

The name sounds familiar in the back of your mind.

The pressure of the monster’s long fingers against your jaw forces you to open your mouth.

“Come”, Lady Dimitrescu orders. You see on the corner of your eyes one of the girls approaching you, holding a cup in her hands.

You jerk under Lady Dimitrescu’s grip, trying to get rid of her and avoid swallowing the substance the girl is going to drop into your mouth, but Lady Dimitrescu tightens her grip so hard that a stream of warm tears starts to fall down your cheeks.

A weak phrase roses from your lips.

Lady Dimitrescu raises her left hand. The girl stops.

The glacial touch of Lady Dimitrescu’s lips brushing your left cheek makes you whimper. The heat running through your body is unbearable, you want to lean your body against her cold skin, to soothe your fever.

Your moan makes the creature to chuckle near your ear when she notices your reaction, sending you a shiver down your spine.

“What did you say, pet?”, she gently asks. But under the velvet voice there’s a rasp tone. The monster demands a quick answer.

“Please, kill me.”

Your beg echoes within the walls of what it seems to be a dungeon. You notice that Lady Dimitrescu’s pupils dilatated like a stray cat. It seems that your unexpected words awoke something inside her.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would had done that when you were laying in a pool of your own blood after you almost killed my daughters”, she puts an emphasis on the word, “and hurt me.”

Right. You hurt them. But they’re all fine, their wounds healed.

However, something is missing.

“The blonde bioweapon–”

The sudden slap on your face leaves you breathless. You pant.

“Don’t you dare to call Daniela nor my other daughters like that”. The tone of her voice menacing, like a predator that’s going to slaughter their prey in any moment. “Don’t you dare, Umbrella’s scum.”

The insult has an immediate effect.

“DON’T CALL ME UMBRELLA’S SCUM!”

You raise your legs with the intention of pushing her away, but the red-haired girl moves faster than you and opens a deep wound in your left thigh with a sickle. Your hoarse scream leaves you numb and drowning in pain. Your eyes drift away despite your efforts to focus on the glowing ambers that scrutinize you without blinking.

“Interesting, an Umbrella soldier that has such a negative reaction at being called like that”, Lady Dimitrescu hums.

“I’m not from Umbrella”, you reply with a heavy breathing.

Her daughters giggle hearing the pain in your voice.

“Silence, girls.”

The giggles die immediately.

“Tell me. Since when Umbrella has rose from the ashes?”

In the middle of the pain and your feverish state you have a lucid moment. Of course. The symbol.

“You saw the symbol on my uniform, right?”

Lady Dimitrescu slightly nods, tilting her head a bit, intrigued by your question. You dryly chuckle, more and more dizzy from the blood loss of your thigh's wound.

“Are you blind?”, you spit. “Didn’t you see that the symbol is blue instead of red-”

Lady Dimitrescu’s open hand is just a few inches away from your face. You gulp. You didn’t see the slap coming. How can a creature so big be so fast?

“Don’t test my patient, pet, and answer to my question”, fire ignites in her eyes.

You sense the dreadful tension. Yet you refuse to answer to her question. A sigh comes from her red lips.

“Irina, give me the cup”, Lady Dimitrescu says to her daughter.

“Mother, I don’t understand why we should heal her after she almost killed Da–”

Irina’s words vanish at the piercing glare of the matriarch, her eyes still golden but becoming even darker as the night. She gives her mother the cup, her head down avoiding the glare.

“Lavinia.”

The other girl looks at her mother.

“Clean the mess you made.”

Lavinia frowns, not pleased with the order given. Suddenly you feel the dungeon’s temperature drop. You whimper when Lavinia removes her sickle from your wound. You almost faint at the pain, but your captor holds your face tightly, forcing you to focus your attention on her. Without warning the creature pours the content of the cup into your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

You’re crying, holding your breath to not drink the poison Lady Dimitrescu is forcing you to swallow.

“ ** _Pet_.**”

You jerk under her weight until you start to cough. Lady Dimitrescu loses her patience and pinches your noise. Involuntary, you swallow the liquid.

Her hands release the grip on you. You start to sob trembling.

She caresses your cheeks with delicately, whipping away your tears with the tip of her fingers in a motherly way that makes your heart shudder, but besides that you don’t react at her touch. Your mind is foggy, trapped in a dark place that isn’t easy to run away from.

Her red lips are moving like dancing flames in a winter’s night.

You blankly stare at her. She’s asking you something, but it takes you a while to understand her words.

“What are you?”

She frowns at your confused look.

“You’re human, but your blood tastes different than the blood of your kin.”

Your eyes widen. Did she drink your blood when you were unconscious? The idea makes you grunt disgusted.

“Your senses are far superior to the average human’s senses. Your wounds heal quickly by themselves.”

She points at your thigh. Through your ripped pants you see dried blood and the mark of a fresh scar. Your “powers” still work, but then… why the wound on your stomach didn’t heal?

“Except the one I made you with my own claws.”

Lady Dimitrescu raises her eyebrows seeing how the confused look on your face slowly turns into a grimace of horror. She saw that look too many times in her victims when they realized they were doomed. But she doesn’t know the reason behind your reaction.

The statement hits you like a hammer. Your head spins at her words.

No, it can’t be, you can’t be a bioweapon, you’re human.

Human.

 _Human_.

The image of a bright white room and the laughter of your father flashes through your mind.

“NO!”

The girls flinch at your sudden yell. Lady Dimitrescu has her mouth slightly agape, startled with what’s going on.

“KILL ME! PLEASE, KILL ME! I DON’T WANT TO BECOME A BIOWEAPON LIKE YOU”, you scream at the top of your lungs. “KILL ME!!”

With a wave of her hand, Lady Dimitrescu dismisses her daughters. You still scream at her, begging her to kill you and put an end to your misery.

The matriarch covers your mouth with her gloved hand. You shiver again under her touch, your eyes pleading for a merciful death.

“I’m not going to kill you”, she says, “until you give me answers to my questions. I’ll come tomorrow to take care of the wound of your stomach.”

Before you could react, she leaves the dungeons, locking the door with a click that pushes you to the verge of madness.

Your screams begging for your death reach the walls of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did Lady Dimitrescu give to the reader? The Sanguis Virginis? Perhaps poison? Or... meds for the injuries? Who knows *wink, wink*
> 
> Anyways, the chapter title's translation is "A soul of fire and eyes of the color of flame".


	2. Misericordia pro nobis non est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since you were captured by Lady Dimitrescu, who demands answers about who you are. You'll find that within the walls of the castle there's no mercy for no one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I want to thank you all for the warm welcome, I'm in awe at the good reception that the first chapter of the fic had, so I'll continue it :')  
> I don't know how long it'll take me to post the next chapters because I have tons of uni work to do, but I have the plotline already written, so I just have to connect shit and pray that you'll enjoy it *fingers crossed*
> 
> About the titles of the chapters, most of them, if not all, will be in latin. But don't worry, at the beginning of each chapter I'll give you the translation! This time the chapter is called "There's no mercy for us".

“Don’t do that, pet”, Lady Dimitrescu scolds you with a neuter tone, but you know that the noise you’re making is irritating her. You stop scratching the dirty mud trapped between the rocks of the floor of your cell. Your broken nails grow again as if you’ve never been scratching the ground until your fingers bleed. The wounds stings, but somehow it makes you feel alive in that empty darkness.

“Raise your arm, pet”, she orders. You obey her in silence as she finishes to bandage your stomach. You clench your jaws at the gloved touch brushing your exposed skin. She carefully lifts your chin humming, admiring the work she has done. You put your shirt on. The touch of the fabric comforts you a bit. Lady Dimitrescu gave you that shirt when your fever was gone a couple days after your encounter with the family. Is a fancy shirt, outdated to your fashion standards –in true, you only wear jeans and loosen hoodies or denim jackets when you’re not on a mission. But the shirt is _really_ outdated.

Is a laced-trimmed creamy shirt as the same color of Lady Dimitrescu’s long dress. You hate to admit it, but you love the shirt’s design. The sleeves are wide and pleated. Your eyes wander to the wrist cuffs, decorated with a floral golden embroidery. You still wonder if the shirt is from the 18th century because you had seen similar clothes on paintings from that century. You slide your fingers to your throat, touching the three nacre buttons of the collar. You hesitate for a moment but, as always, you decided to not button up the collar of the shirt, so the opening slit leaves your chest half exposed.

The day Lady Dimitrescu gave you that shirt and saw that you left the collar unbuttoned, exposing your chest, she tried to force you to button up your shirt. But after seeing your reluctance, she decided to ignore it. It wasn’t worth to waste her time with such a foolish behavior. However, you still notice the tension lingering on her body when she sees your chest, the questions she made the first day still etched on her eyes. Questions you answered with silence.

 _You have an odd…. collection of scars. How did you get that one?_ , you recall her words.

Unconsciously, you put your hand on your chest, just below your left clavicle. Slowly, you trace a path with your fingertips, following the jagged and thick line of your dark red scar. Your movements slow the rhythm when your fingertips circle your left breast, going down your cleavage until the fabric of your shirt covers your hand. Your heart skips a beat when you realize what were you doing. You look away embarrassed, aware of Lady Dimitrescu’s piercing eyes scrutinizing your movements. If she noticed your reaction, she didn’t say anything. After a moment of silence Lady Dimitrescu speaks.

“Well, today am I going to receive the answers I want, or you’ll remain silent again?”

You say nothing.

Lady Dimitrescu snorts.

“As talkative as ever, I see”, she crosses her arms, not breaking the eye contact. “Good, I’ll tell you what I know and let’s see if you have something to say.”

You break the eye contact, looking at your feet. You’re still not accustomed to the black saddle boots you’re wearing. The fact that they’re knee length irks you. However, you find astonishing that Lady Dimitrescu managed to find clothes of your size. Perhaps the clothes are from her daughters. You prefer to not think about that possibility nor how did she managed to have daughters.

“You’re a Blue Umbrella soldier”, she says. “These pasts days I’ve been doing research about your company and I’m impressed that the so famous Chris Redfield did such a bold movement, building a company that mirrors Umbrella, but instead of creating virus and bioweapons, they create antidotes and kill bioweapons. Am I right?”

You nod. There’s no point in arguing when she’s right.

“So, they’ve sent you to kill my family and me because they think we’re… _bioweapons_ ”, she spits the last word with poison on the tip of her tongue.

“No, they’ve sent me only after you. To know that you have _daughters_ ”, you mockingly say the word, “was an unpleasant surprise.”

You curse yourself for opening your mouth. You _must_ remain in silence, not give information to the bioweapon.

“Mmh”, she licks her lips humming. “So, they aren’t aware of my girls’ existence? That’s a relief.”

Lady Dimitrescu leans her back against the wall.

“Anyways, I’m sorry to say this, but I’m not the bioweapon you’re looking for.”

You hear the sound of a lighter. A faintly smoke smell fills your lungs. You look at her face, now bathed by the orange glow of the fire.

“I look _too_ human to be one of those bioweapons, don’t you think?”

You don’t reply. She has a point. It’s not just she looks _too_ human. It’s that, despite having similar traits with the Tyrants, unlike them she has consciousness, she acts on her own free will. And she’s intelligent, so intelligent that it frightens you.

Lady Dimitrescu takes a puff of smoke from her cigarette.

“Although… I think that’s not the only reason why you came here to kill me.”

You slightly raise your head, avoiding her gaze, curiousity splashed over your face.

“There’s also a personal reason why you want to kill me. And I don’t think is because you want to save the cattle.”

Lady Dimitrescu widely smiles, showing her fangs. She has just called the villagers _cattle_. You feel sick at that word.

“No, it’s not that… I saw your smirk, I saw the mirth on your eyes when you hurt my girls”, you notice that her velvet tone turns rasp with each word until a growling sound comes from her throat. Lady Dimitrescu purses her lips as soon as she sees a ghost smile on the corner of your lips.

“Do you like hurting other people, don’t you?”

The question falls down, striking you like a thunderstrike. You raise your head, your olives meeting her ambers. You dig your nails in your palms until the pain makes you flinch.

Lady Dimitrescu throws the cigarette to the ground. The ashes fade away when she steps on it.

“You hate me with such burning passion that it’s lovely, dear pet”, she approaches you. Your heart flutters and your eyes widen when she tucks a strand of white hair behind your ear.

“I have the gut that the reason about why you hate me is related with your errant scars or these white locks among your brunette hair”, she murmurs close to your ear. “Yet, I don’t understand why you would hate me for this, if we’ve never met before until you dare to lay a foot on my domains.”

You shut your eyes firmly, trying to push the image of your father far away from your thoughts. You think about your wound, which makes you wonder if the blonde daughter of Lady Dimitrescu has recovered from the injuries you made to her and if she and her sisters want to cut you into pieces after you tried to kill them all.

“Yes. Daniela has fully recovered from her injuries. And yes, my daughters want to chop that beautiful body of yours and have a feast with your organs”, she says. “I find it endearing”, her eyes glow, staring at you with the glare of a starving beast, “but don’t worry, pet, they’ll not lay their hands on you… unless I give them permission.”

You open your eyes in shock, looking at her. Did she just read your mind?

Lady Dimitrescu chuckles, aware of what you’re thinking about.

“Perhaps I can read your mind…”, she says mockingly. She’s playing another of her twisted mind games, you know it. You can’t see her lips, hidden under the shadow of her big hat, but you know that the smirk is carved on her face. The green of your eyes burns with hatred. “Or perhaps your emotions betray you.”

You hiss at her when she tries to touch your cheeks.

“Mph, after all I have done for you, you’re still behaving like a flighty child”, she sighs. “Well, if my daughter Daniela decides to disobey me and pay you a visit…”

She pauses for a moment, tapping her fingers against her ivory face.

“… don’t beg for my help.”

“I won’t ever beg for your help, monster”, you angrily spit.

_Fuck._

Lady Dimitrescu raises her eyebrows.

“Oh, so the cat hasn’t eaten your tongue. Those are wonderful news!”, she exclaims, clasping her hands together.

“I don’t give a fuck if your children kill me, I don’t fear dead.”

“You crave for dead.”

The sudden silence is almost deafening, only the sound of your heart ragging against your chest fills your ears. Your heartbeat must be sounding like an orchestra in the ears of Lady Dimitrescu, but she doesn’t say anything. The sound of the fabric of her silken dress dragging along the floor echoes as she walks around you.

“Daniela sometimes can be very… rude. To say at least.”

She walks towards the door. Before leaving your cell, she looks at you again. There’s a devilish glow in her eyes.

“Unlike the rest of the family, she enjoys playing with her toys until they’re broken. And, trust me, when she enjoys a toy, it can last _too_ longer until their last words are pleas. Pleas to be killed”, she says, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You gasp when you hear the click of the dungeon’s door, but not the click of your cell’s door.

Did she forget to lock your cell? No, she’s not stupid. During those days locked in the castle’s dungeons she has proven to you that she’s cunning as a fox. She left the door of your cell open on purpose.

You bite your lips hard until you taste the metallic stench of your own blood.

_That bitch._

The wound on your stomach still hurts a bit, but you manage to get up. The bed creaks when you move away from it. You still don’t understand why Lady Dimitrescu is treating you so well to the point of placing a bed in your cell. She could have just let you sleep on the floor without a blanket to shield you from the cold. She even brought you some books and a chessboard to kill the time between her interrogations. Of course, you didn’t thank her for that. She’s a monster. You’ll never treat a monster like a human. You reach the door, touching the bars and gently you push it. The metallic screech rings in your ears. You wait until the sound vanishes. You step out into a vaulted corridor and notice that the place isn’t exactly a dungeon, but an old cellar. You cover your nose with the back of your hand, repulsed by a sudden metallic stench that fills the air.

Blood.

The air is filled with the strong smell of blood.

How did you not notice the smell all this time? Did Lady Dimitrescu spilled blood before leaving the cellar?

You walk cautiously through the corridor. The adjacent cells are all locked, some of them empty, the others full of dirty and buckets filled with a suspicious dark fluid. Hanging on the walls of some of the cells there are chains, shackles and what it seems to be cages with weird shapes. Your heart races faster and faster the further you go into the cellar. Suddenly you hear noises of something tearing. At first, it sounds like fabric, but then you recognize the sound of flesh ripping apart from breaking bones. You dodge the bulk that falls from over you. You pant, leaned against one of the walls, your eyes looking frantically between the bulk and the ceiling. A thick liquid falls on your face. You feel the liquid sliding down your neck like a snake silently lurking for its prey. There’s no need to touch the liquid to know what it’s. You take a sharp breath. Under you, the splash of your boots against the liquid draws your attention. From the bulk the end of ripped intestines and a spine peep out. You step back terrified until you collide with a barrel, which snaps your senses back.

On the barrel there’s a wine bottle. Instinctively, you take the bottle. Under the torch’s light you read the wine’s name.

 _Sanguis Virginis_.

The bottle shatter into pieces when it crashes against the ground. The thud that came from the barrel made you yell in surprise.

 _Maiden's Blood_.

You know that the bioweapon is truly a monster, that she probably killed the young girls of the village that were required as maidens in her castle. But you belittled the rumors you heard about the secret ingredient of the wine that was made behind the castle’s walls. You feel your fears crawling your back as you grab an iron stick that lays on the ground and you hit the barrel until the lid cracks a bit and you can remove it. You collapse to the ground puking astride.

A girl.

There was a **girl** inside the barrel, her throat cut in half, her jaw broken. You close your eyes avoiding looking at the girl’s deep wounds over all her body. Her eyes’ sockets are empty.

Lady Dimitrescu’s last words before leaving echoes in the depths of your mind.

This is the fate you’re going to suffer if her daughter, the one you almost killed, catches you. You can see her mother’s smirk clouding your thoughts.

 _Don’t beg for my help_.

You swear in your name that you’re going to kill that monster and burn the castle to the ground.

Not in vain you survived your father’s torment.

And you’ll survive this monster too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be heavy plot and we'll know almost everything about reader's past *rubs her tiny hands evilly*
> 
> And I don't regret giving the reader 18th clothes, I mean, Lady Dimi is old af and she doesn't have hoodies for the human that wants to kill her lol


	3. Semper Dolens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Dimitrescu's patience runs out and you'll suffer the consequences of your actions. But the worst is yet to come during your sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, some cw in this chapter: past abuse and a very graphic description of a wound. If you want to avoid this, skip the part that starts in the first horizontal line and ends in the next horizontal line. In the note at the end I'll resume what happens in this part because is important for the plot of the story.
> 
> Chapter title's translation!: "Always in pain"

As soon as the word _monster_ departs from your lips, you feel the woman’s hands gripping your wrists too strong. You gasp when she lifts you in the air and pins you against the wall. You whimper when you hit your head. The razors of Lady Dimitrescu’s fingers softly brush your skin temptingly, pondering whether to slice the flesh of your wrists until they bleed or to leave them untouched. The intensity of her gaze lets you know that she isn’t going to be merciful this time. She had enough patience with your childish behavior these past days, you’ve pushed all her buttons until you found the one that made her lost her immaculate composure. You can’t help but to smile mischievously at the sight of her yellowish eyes raging with heat, her breathing heavy. Your smile turns into a grimace of pain when the razors cut your wrists with the precision of a surgeon.

“I had enough of your shit, pet”, she says dryly.

She releases one of your wrists to grab you by the neck.

“I’m tired of your stupid games, of your foolish silence, of your bad manners”, she says with the tone of a mother scolding her wayward child. “I’ve been nothing but gentle and caring with you, giving you everything you need to meet your basics needs. And this is how you pay me? With disrespect?”

Your mind is starting to feel a bit dizzy at the blood loss from the wounds of your wrists.

“Why do you care about me so much? If you’re tired of my shit, then lock me inside a barrel and turn me into one of your fancy bottles of _wine_.”

Your words take Lady Dimitrescu aback. After a few seconds that seemed an eternity, she tilts her head, eyes half lidded staring daggers at you. The wandering flames within them burn with raged passion. Without a word she sinks her fangs on your neck. You yelp in surprise. She’s still holding you by the neck, but she pulls your hair, forcing your head back, which exposes your throat even more, giving her more room to feed on you. At first the pain is unbearable, and you weep some tears, but slowly it turns into pleasure. You find yourself moaning as each push of her tongue against your skin, sucking the blood from your carotid artery. You try to punch her arm, but you’re so weak that you can’t even raise your arms. Your heartbeat is more erratic, slower. Lady Dimitrescu is resolved to milk you like a cow until she had drained the last drop of blood from you. Suddenly, when you thought you were going to die, she retreats her fangs. The dizziness in your mind averts you from cursing yourself for the long and high-pitched moan you let go at the touch of Lady Dimitrescu’s tongue licking your neck from the bottom to the back of your ear, drinking any trail of blood she could have left. Her lips brush your earlobe, leaving a print of red lipstick.

“You know what?”, she whispers near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “That’s a wonderful idea. Your blood has such a unique taste that I could make a special and exclusive wine with you”. She licks the blood on your wrists. The wounds quickly heal after she licks them. “However, it would be a waste to turn you into a wine bottle that would only last one night… No, I’ll keep you alive. I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of dying.”

You heavily pant, regaining your consciousness after she ravaged your neck.

“Trust me, pet, I’m irritated with you right now and I would love to crush your head with my bare hands”, she warns you. You slightly look at her with unfocused eyes. “However, I still demand answers from you. And until I don’t receive them, you’ll stay in my dominions. You’ll be _mine_.”

 _You’ll be mine_.

The velvet voice reciting those words lights a torch in your core. Involuntary you roll your hips against her. Lady Dimitrescu hums at your reaction, keeping a devilish grin on her cherry-wine lips.

“What a greedy pet you’re.”

Noticing that you’ve regained your strength, and you aren’t feeling light-headed anymore, you grab her arm, digging the fingers against the silken fabric of her dress. As a response, she tightens the grip around your throat, but she doesn’t choke you, allowing you to breathe.

“Fuck you”, you spit.

She chuckles breathily. The strong scent of her lavender perfume is intoxicating you.

“Oh, is that so? You wish you could fuck me, pet.”

You grin your teeth.

“Curse you, m…!”

“…monster”, she finishes your sentence.

You groan when she releases the grip around your throat and your knees meet the floor with a loud bang. Something cold and firm taps your chin. You freeze. Lady Dimitrescu lifts your chin with the tip of her heel. She notices the tension on your pale knuckles.

“Look at me, pet.”

You want to be left alone, so you obey her, tired of what she already did to you.

“I have some matters to attend, so I’ll leave you for now. But tomorrow I’ll come again, and I expect more collaboration from your part.”

“What the fuck do you want to know?!”, you yell to her in frustration. You’ve already told her everything you know about Blue Umbrella, the Arklay Mountain’s mansion, the Raccoon City incident, the demise of Umbrella’s Corporation, the horrors of the project Tyrant, the menace of the plagues… Everything. You’ve replied to all her questions.

Lady Dimitrescu sighs.

“I’m aware that you’ve told me everything about that corporation of yours and what happened with those bas-”

She bits her tongue at that last word. You notice the rage filling her chest. Why did she stop on her tracks? Was she going to say something about the original Umbrella Corporation?

You decide to beat around the bush with the hope that she finishes what she was saying.

“What happened with who from Umbrella?”, you dare to ask.

The name of the corporation doesn’t go unnoticed at the woman’s ears, but Lady Dimitrescu waves her hand, indicating that she’s not going to continue talking about that topic.

“Never mind, pet”, she says. Lady Dimitrescu places her hands on her hips, the sound of the leather straining against the fabric of the dress. You listen closely to the changes on the sound as the pressure of her fingers shift. She seems nervous, almost anxious. “What I demand to know is your story.”

Your hearts sinks to the bottom of your stomach.

“What happened to you before you became a soldier?”

A cold chill makes you shiver.

“Your blood has a similar taste to my own blood…”, she raises a hand, cutting out the complaining that’s rising from your throat, “I’m not saying you’re a bioweapon.”

To hear her assure you that you’re not a weapon soothes the anxiety that lingers in your chest. You look away, bemused by that weird sensation.

“No, you aren’t one of those creatures. But your blood has something _special_ that allows you to heal quickly and regenerate your cells regardless the severity of your injuries. And yet the wound that I made you with my own claws didn’t heal by itself, you needed treatment like any human being.”

Lady Dimitrescu hears the sound of your ragged heartbeat beating against your ribs.

“Also, your body is covered with old scars. I’m… curious about the one on your chest”, she points at the reddish scar that emerges from under your shirt. “Does it hurt after all those years?”

You deny with a slight nod. Lady Dimitrescu tilts her head.

“I won’t even ask you again about those shiny flocks of white hair that always cover your eyes.”

Without thinking it, you tuck the flocks behind your ear. You see the ghost of a sincere smile on the corner of Lady Dimitrescu’s red lips.

“Did Umbrella do something to you?”

The question falls over you like a bucket of cold ice. You hold your gaze. If you avert it, you’ll give her an affirmative answer without words. And you’re not going to let her know anything about you. Much less about your past. The reason why you want to die, and you fear becoming a…

You don’t dare to think the word, suddenly feeling small and terrified. Lady Dimitrescu retreats the tip of her heel from your chin. You raise your head at the fading sound of her heels clicking. A shadow next to Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with a maniac smile.

“What are you doing here…?”, you ask in whispers to the shadow. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t hear you, or she feigns to not have heard you. A wave of anxiety hits your core.

No, no, no.

He can’t be here.

He can’t be alive.

He’s going to hurt you for what happened.

“Wait!”, you desperately yell to her. “Please… Please don’t leave me alone. He’s going to hurt me… Please…”, you beg in tears.

Lady Dimitrescu turns around, her eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you say, pet? Who’s going to hurt you?”

The woman looks at her side, to the direction your trembling hand is pointing. Then, she looks back at you, hiding her concern under a blank stare.

“No one is there, pet. Just you and I, so, if you excuse me, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The shadow vanishes as Lady Dimitrescu leaves the cell, but not the despair that remains chained to your chest. You think about the despair that Pometheus felt every time he heard the eagle plunging from the sky.

You pray in silence to not dream about your past as the tears roll by.

* * *

“Dad…? Where’s mommy? I miss her…”

“Mommy is working, I’ve already told you it.”

“But we didn’t see her for…”, you count with your fingers, eyebrows furrowed, “three… three weeks.”

“She has a lot of work to do”, your father replies without looking at you. “She’ll return when she finishes her job. Until them just stop asking for her, is annoying.”

You lower your head a bit, your fists clenched inside the jacket’s pockets.

“A-and where are we going…?”

“To my workplace.”

You raise your head, your eyes widen in surprise.

“The… the laboratory?”

Your father doesn’t reply, he instead pushes you inside the elevator after passing her ID through the scanner. The metallic voice of the scanner saying _Adrian Beneviento_ terrifies you. You try to grab your father’s hand when the elevator’s doors close and the lights go out, but he snaps your hand away.

When the elevator’s doors open you have to close your eyes tightly at the excessive bright light of the corridor. You father grabs you by the collar and hurries you up to walk through the corridor, his long strides force you to almost run to keep his pace. You’re in the verge of tears, your eyes hurting due to the brightness of the corridor and your knees faltering at every step you take. On both sides of the corridor, you see windows, through which you glimpse people in astronaut suits, or you think so. Your heart skips a beat. You swear you have glimpsed a grey-skin creature locked inside a tube filled with a glowing blue liquid. Before you can ask your father about what you saw, he opens a door and pushes you inside. You fall on your knees, whining at the hit against the cold white floor. You raise your head, your eyes meeting an icy gaze that makes you feel like a little mouse under the menacing glance of a predator. Behind the man that’s staring at you, you see Umbrella’s Corporation logo on the wall. The image will be forever etched in your memory.

“Is this some kind of joke, Beneviento?”

You wince at the raspy voice of the man who’s in front of you, his navy-blue eyes moving from you to your father, who doesn’t reply to his question.

“Fine”, he says dismissing both of you with a wave of his hand. “Do whatever you want with her as long as I have results in a month after I came back from Raccoon City. Did I make myself clear?”

You notice your father stiffening behind you.

“Yes, Doctor Birkin, I assure that you’ll have results soon.”

“Dad…?”, you ask in a whisper, the words barely audible as they leave your throat. Birkin gestures, calling two persons dressed in those weird astronaut-looking suits. You scream and kick in the air as they lift you in the air. You scream your father’s name until your lungs burn. But Adrian Beneviento turns you his back, ignoring your call for help. The men carry you to another bright room. In the middle of the room there’s a transparent cube, large enough to lock a person inside it. You look over your shoulder, still trying to get away from the strangers that are hurting you with their strong grip on your arms. You glimpse the grin painted on your father’s face.

He’s smiling.

Is the first time in your short life spawn that you see him smiling.

You widen your eyes in terror at the realization.

He’s smiling because he’s going to finally finish his investigation. Using you as a tool to achieve that.

The cube is going to be your cage.

“DAD, PLEASE, HELP ME, DAD!!”

Your tears run down your cheeks, but nobody cares about them as the men throw you inside the cage and lock you down. From this point your memories are going to be trapped behind a thick wall of fog that dissipates only in your sleep.

The first time you see the black liquid coming out the syringe’s needle you’re so petrified by the terror of the moment that you don’t show any resistance to the injection, just silent tears. At first nothing happens, but as the days pass your skin starts to itch and the sudden fever you have is unbearable. Your language becomes more erratic, the only word that comes from your throat is “hungry”, until the word becomes an inhuman growl, like the sound of a beast. And a beast you become when sink your teeth into the rat’s flesh that your father gives to you. You chew the meat and bones as if they were a soft candy. But you’re still hungry.

Hungry.

_Hungry._

You only forget the cramps on your stomach when the scalpel cuts your skin and your father rips away the protuberances that day by day appear on the skin, covering your whole body. When the protuberances multiply too fast the scalpel is no longer used, and you’re sprayed with a glowing liquid that burns your whole skin. Everyone in the underground laboratory won’t ever forget your screams of agony. You’ve lost your consciousness long ago you don’t know how much time has passed. Perhaps only a week, perhaps a couple months. Or perhaps years. The truth is that only a month has passed and there’s a lot of movement in the laboratory. Everyone is nervous and rushing their investigations at the news of Raccoon’s City destruction and the world’s commotion at the proofs that Umbrella Corporation is the responsible of the virus outbreak and the posterior atomic bomb that whipped away the whole city from the map.

As everyone is in panic, you remain calm, not aware that each time you scratch your body, the flesh rips away from your bones, that the skin is falling like autumn leaves. You only think about your hunger. They have to chain you to keep you up from chewing your own bones, now visible under the shreds of skin that hang from your flesh.

A few more days pass by and your father injects you another dose of that black liquid. He doesn’t expect nothing. Despite that your mind is trapped somewhere you can feel, rather smell, his emotions dwelling in the air of the white room. His emotions are conflicted, it’s almost impossible to discern them, but you know he’s angry. Angry because his efforts are being in vain, his experiment not giving the results he desperately wants. Suddenly you notice that you’re regaining your consciousness, you’re aware of your movements, the pain that pulses through your body, the itching wounds… The abrupt smile in your father’s lips. You swallow the lump in your throat, slowly shifting your unfocused gaze from your father’s face to your right arm. There’s a painful sting crawling up from your fingertips to your shoulder. You let out a weak cry of pain that transforms into a scream of terror when you see that your arm is changing its form. A loud crack is heard and your fingers start to lengthen until the skin is broken and the bones come out, slowly taking the shape of sharp claws. Your hand loses its human aspect to become a blobby mass of grey flesh that stinks.

“STOP IT, DAD!!”, you growl hitting the walls of your cage. Again, you start to not being aware of your own thoughts and actions, which results in a fatal movement from you trying to break down the cage. Instead of tear apart the crystal, you end tearing apart your own chest from your left clavicle until the bottom part of your ribcage. You hear your father yelling at someone as you fall down to the floor, the blood spilling out, staining everything.

And then you feel a sting on your neck and something entering your body. The next thing you know is that the claws have retracted, and your hand is no longer a blobby mass. You touch the wound you made to yourself to find a jagged and thick fresh scar that itches at your touch. You gasp at the feeling of your wounds closing and healing and the fever soothing down until it’s gone. A loud bang breaks the silence of the room. You blink twice. There’s a long trail of blood splashed over the cage wall. Your eyes trail from your father’s body lying in the ground to the soldier that’s taking away his gas mask, a horrified look in his eyes. You weakly raise your hand pleading.

“Kill me.”

* * *

You wake up screaming the same words you whispered in your nightmare. You toss away the strands of white hair that are glued to your sweating forehead with shaky hands. You try to rise from the bed but the heavy darkness that surrounds you freezes you. Your heartbeat quicks, you’re not alone in the cell. That darkness is not… darkness itself. It’s more like an intangible presence that you can feel and see but not touch.

Is one of Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters in the shape of a swarm of bugs?

No, it’s not one of the frenzy maidens.

Your breathing becomes erratic the more you feel a cold breeze floating around you until it brushes your cheeks like an innocent peck. The heartbeats slow. Suddenly, your mind is at peace and the anxiety vanishes. The breeze stands by your side till your breath is low and rhythmic. As soon as the breeze notices this, the darkness retreats, allowing the candle that’s next to your bed light the cell. Under the watchful eye of the dancing flames of the candle, a shadow moves along the walls of the cell, leaving you alone with your thoughts. When you no longer see the shadow nor feel the cold breeze you lean on your elbows until you sit in a comfortable posture, with your back leaning against the wall. You feel your chest’s scar painfully itching, but you ignore it. When was the last time you relived those memories so vividly in dreams? You dream about _that_ almost every night, but not as vividly as if you had travelled to the past and suffered that again. And it’s the first time you dream about your mutation. About the reason why you fear and hate bioweapons so much. You were this close to become another offspring of the Project Tyrant. The youngest offspring of Umbrella’s abominations. You shudder at the thought of that possibility. It took years to learn everything about your father’s project. That bastard had been the right-hand man of William Birkin, the most renowned investigator of Umbrella, creator of the G-virus. One way or another, you father managed to create a variation of the G-virus that called the GS-virus and used you as a guinea pig to test the virus and find a way to create the long-awaited perfect Tyrant.

The feeling of something landing on your nose distracts you from your contemplation. You force your eyes to focus on your nose to see an insect on it.

“A tiger mosquito?”, you say confused, frowning.

You raise your hand slowly to shoo the insect, but your eyes widen in realization when you notice the shadow of a swarm of bugs projected on the walls. Lady Dimitrescu’s blood thirsty child is here.

“Get away…!”, your words are cut by a sharp pain that’s rapidly crawling down under your skin. You scream in pain when the skin of your palm tears and a trail of bugs fly from your wounds.

“Oh fuck, FUCK”, you curse at the uncomfortable sting of the open wounds healing. The swarm of bugs charge against you, taking advantage that you’re distracted. You firmly shut your eyes and mouth and you cover your nose, in an attempt to prevent the bugs from going into your body, but the bugs quickly crawl to your ears. You wave your arms in panic, trying to slap as many bugs as possible, but the swarm grows until you can recognize a shape that looks almost human. The blood booms in your ears when the familiar maniac giggle rings in them.

“Ooooh, the poor human can’t defend herself?”, Daniela says mockingly. “Did you lost your fucking powers when Mother impaled you like the scum you are?”

You clench your jaw and blindly charge against her. Daniela’s shape vanishes as the swarm of bugs splits to avoid your attack.

“You’re nothing!”, she yells. “Do you hear me?! Nothing!”

The swarm assembles to reveal her shape again. With your foot you push the bed against her to gain time to run towards the cell’s door, but Daniela jumps and grabs you by the throat. Unlike her mother, she’s unable to raise you to the air, but her grip is strong enough to make it hard for you to breathe. You try to kick her ribs, but this time she hasn’t her guard let down and easily avoids your attack as she digs the sickle’s blade into your stomach.

“No…!”

“Yes, yes, yes!!”, she replies frenziedly.

You grab her wrists, digging your nails in them, but Daniela doesn’t flinch at the pain, keeping on her efforts to open your stomach and rip your organs from your body. But suddenly she stops. Daniela whistles in admiration when she sees your wound slowly healing.

“So, this is what big sis meant when she told me that the wound that she made to you healed”, she says to herself, fascinated by the grotesque vision. She looks at you with a big smile that shows her teeth stained with blood. “I’ve must admit that I’m impressed. You’re going to be my favorite new toy!”

You scream when Daniela cuts your stomach again and stops until the wound heals. She repeats the process a couple more times, each wound she inflicts to you more painful than the previous one.

“Please… Stop…!”, you beg in tears. “Just kill me!”

Daniela laughs, ignoring your words as she digs the sickle into you. You tighten the grip around her wrists. Lady Dimitrescu was right when she warned you about her daughter.

_Don’t beg for my help._

When you’re about to give up and call for help, a sudden darkness surrounds both of you. You gasp in surprise when Daniela releases the grip around your throat and you fall to the ground on your knees, the floor coated in a pool of your own blood. You heavy breathe, watching in awe a hundred of eyes glowing in the darkness. Your hair stands on an end when all the eyes turn red, except the golden ones that are looking at you. Daniela is petrified, her hands grasping something around her left wrist that you don’t manage to see due to the heavy darkness.

“What did I say about touching what belongs to me, Daniela?”, a raspy voice says in a low growl.

“Mother, please… I can explain…!”

“ ** _Daniela_**.”

The girl shudders at the menacing tone of the voice.

“You… you said that we’re forbidden to touch your things…”

“Then, tell me… Why are you touching _my_ pet?”, the voice howls.

Your heart skips a beat at the statement that you’re _her_ pet. You feel unease.

“I’m sorry, Mother… It’s just that… she hurt us…”, Daniela says in a trembling voice. “She hurt you, Mother!”

You hear a deep sigh. Suddenly the darkness fades away and the eyes vanishes with them, except the golden ones that were staring at you before. Lady Dimitrescu is here, towering you and her daughter. You swallow the thick lump on your throat. She looks so menacing, so _regal_ that you’re bemused by her presence. Lady Dimitrescu releases the grip around her daughter’s wrist.

“I know, Daniela”, the familiar silken voice of the lady of the castle echoes in the cellar. “But I didn’t give you permission to play with her. Not yet”, she says looking briefly at you from the corner of her eyes.

The menace against you hangs in the air. Daniela slowly nods, ashamed of being scolded by her mother in front a _human_. Lady Dimitrescu’s face softens. She cups Daniela’s face in her hands.

“You know that mom needs information from the pet, so, please, wait a bit longer until then. If you behave well, I’ll reward you with new preys to hunt down.”

Daniela’s eyes light up at the anticipation of having a feast soon. You heavily breathe, looking in awe at the familiar scene. Your thoughts are more confusing. The seeds of doubt have been set in your heart. You really wonder if they’re really bioweapons or just… humans. Evil, but humans. You tremble at the thought. Lady Dimitrescu grabs your chin lifting your head so you can look at her in the eyes.

“And you, my pet, raise”, her velvet voice commands. “Is time to show you your new chambers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what a wild ride was this chapter lol
> 
> Anyways, to those who skipped the reader's nightmare part because of the cw, I'll resume it: reader is the daughter of Adrian Beneviento, William Birkin's right hand-man. Her father used her as a guinea pig to test the GS-virus, a variation of the famous Birkin's G-virus, which causes a mutation in the reader, but she receives an antiretroviral that blocks the mutation and grants her the healing "powers". 
> 
> In next chapter reader will start to explore Castle Dimitrescu and interact with the inhabitants of the castle, and she'll learn more about their backstories!
> 
> If you're curious, yes, I gave the daughters swarms of different bugs: Daniela's bugs are tiger mosquitos, Lavinia's bugs are moths and Irina's ones are horse-flies. This is going to be fun.


	4. Quo Vadis, Canis?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lady of the castle isn't pleased what with you said and you suffer the consequences of your words. But you make a decision that will change your life, for better or for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I would like to thank you all for the support you're giving to this fic, I'm really excited to continue sharing this silly story with you all, so I'm really grateful ;w; ❤️
> 
> If this chapter took me so long to finish it, is because I decided to change some elements of the worldbuilding in the last minute and I had to scrap chapters 4 to 6 in order to rewrite almost everything, so the story makes sense with the new elements I decided to add, but I believe this was a good decision. And don't ask me how many times I watched the trailers and the Maiden demo to describe the castle as accurately as possible, is embarrassing. 
> 
> Chapter's title: "Where are you going, pet?" (Canis means dog, but it can be translate as pet)

The first time you try to escape from Castle Dimitrescu a swarm of horse-flies attacks you when you’re descending through the satin bedsheets you tied to the window, which makes you break almost all your bones after falling from a 50ft height. It takes you a couple of painful hours to heal your bones and stop the internal bleeding under the joyful watch of Irina, Lady Dimitrescu’s middle child. She doesn’t tell anything to her mother about your failed escape attempt, so Lady Dimitrescu thinks that your first attempt happens days after when she comes to your new chambers to bring your food. You fool her leaving the window open and the bedsheets tied to the bedpost as if you had escaped through the window. As soon as she leans against the window’s frame to look for you, you run from your hideout under the bed and lock her inside the room. You know that the door won’t stop her as she’ll break it with her bare hands, but at least that will give you time to run away from her. However, this escape attempt is a failure too. This time a swarm of moths ripping your skin in a painful way throws away your efforts. When you’re lying on the floor, heavily panting at the feeling of your ripped skin closing, you hear Lady Dimitrescu congratulating her eldest daughter, Lavinia, for her good job at stopping you. The girl looks at you, eyes half lidded, with a tiny smile on her lips. You sigh, sure that you’ll never be able to run away from that damned castle.

The third time’s the charm, you think the next time you try to escape, but your plan is pathetic, to say the least. You’re so desperate to escape that you just grab the vanity chair and hit Lady Dimitrescu with it. The woman doesn’t flinch a bit when the chair breaks in pieces against her body nor she counterattacks, an expression of resignation painted on her face. But, suddenly, a swarm of noisy tiger mosquitos breaks through the window and attacks you. However, the bugs attack Lady Dimitrescu too by accident. The low growl that comes from the lady’s chest still rings in your ears. Later that day, when Lavinia brings your dinner, she tells you that Daniela is an emotional wreck train and is yelling that you’ll regret having crossed paths with her because Lady Dimitrescu grounded her without going hunting for a whole month. You hear a wheeze coming from the ceiling as a horse-fly lands on your nose.

The days just keep on coming in slow motion. You’re awake in your bed, the dim light of dawn bathing the white satin bedsheets and your naked skin. That night your body was so hot that you couldn’t stand the fabric of the clothes against your skin. You rub your eyes tired. You’ve barely slept because of the dream you had. This time it wasn’t about your childhood nor your father, but about your comrades from Blue Umbrella. It’s been a month since you were abducted by Lady Dimitrescu and her peculiar daughters, and Blue Umbrella didn’t bother to try to get in touch with you as if you’ve never existed. You grip the bedsheets until you hear your knuckles crack.

Fuck them.

Fuck them all. And your mother too.

The thought of your mother makes your heart ache. She left you without a trace, the only memory you keep of her is an old photograph that almost has lost its colors. But now the photograph is gone, probably Lady Dimitrescu burnt it down alongside with your old clothes. You barely remember your mother’s face, except the eyes because you have her eyes. After she left you, you hoped that your comrades of Blue Umbrella wouldn’t ever leave you behind.

But you’re alone in this world. No one truly cares about you.

No, there must be a logical explanation. Your comrades… Captain Redfield would never let you down, right?

You swallow, unsure about the answer to your own question.

Yeah, that’s right. It must that the lady of the castle is hiding from you the news that they’re here trying to rescue you.

_The lady of the castle…_

You put aside the bedsheets and get up. The touch of your feet against the freezing cold floor sends you a shiver. You approach the vanity and look to your reflection in the mirror. You don’t pay attention to the so well-known scars that cover your whole body, all your attention focused on the eye-catching red marks on the union of your neck and your left shoulder. Fang marks. A reminder that Lady Dimitrescu has control over you and your body. The wounds she inflicts to you doesn’t heal immediately, they take their time as if you were a normal human being. And she takes advantage of that fact every time you have a heated argument, which happens almost every day when she tries to break down your walls until you answer her insistent questions about you and your past, but you always reply to her with sarcastic words that infuriate her. She ends leaving you, irritated and frustrated in equal measure, not before she sinks her sharp fangs against the skin of your throat, pleased at the sound of your involuntary moans against her ear, filling the air of the room. She usually doesn’t hurt you, which startles you after having witnessed the horrors of the cellar and her volatile temperament.

However, yesterday you really fucked up everything.

Lately she was trying to approach you courteously, asking you politely if you want to have a stroll around the vineyard now that spring was at the corner. Her tone was calm but stern, not letting you room to reject her masked order. But you looked her dead in the eye and called her a monster in a cold tone that you didn’t know you could have. At first, she seemed taken aback, which confused you because she has heard you call her a monster on numerous occasions. Then she seemed… hurt. You’re not sure if the look she gave to you was pain, sorrow or something different. But it was an emotion you didn’t expect to see in her eyes. However, the emotion quickly vanished, and you gasped when her pupils widen until there was no trace of golden in her irises. Without a word she sank her fangs into your flesh, but she didn’t drink your blood, enjoying the feast as always; she ravaged you so hard that you didn’t moan in any moment, you screamed in pain, jerking under her body crushing yours. She only retreated the fangs when your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the remaining bits of consciousness parting from your mind. Your eyes were unfocused, but you could see her staring at you with tenebrous eyes dark as the night, sparkling with anger and sorrow. You held into her for dear life with shaky legs, feeling the drops of your own blood falling from her mouth to your face. There was so much blood on Lady Dimitrescu’s face that her chest and dress were coated in red. She left you alone in the room without looking back. For the first time you feared she was going to kill you.

 _Monster_.

You look at your right hand, remembering the day that instead of fingers you had long claws, similar to Lady Dimitrescu’s ones. There’s something that’s bothering you since the woman “rescued” you from her daughter’s torture. You started to notice that despite their non-human traits, their reactions to the events of the world around them were human. Is true that sometimes the girls’ behavior is so erratic that makes you stand on the edge constantly, not knowing what to expect from them. But the other day you saw, from your chamber’s window, the girls playing, and Daniela apologized to Irina when she hit her so hard that Irina cried in pain. If they were monsters, they wouldn’t apologize for hurting someone. If they were monsters, they wouldn’t genuinely smile like Lady Dimitrescu when a swarm of mosquitos, moths and horse-flies entered your chamber and surrounded her when you refused to talk to her again. When she noticed she was smiling, immediately she frowned, in an attempt to mask that smile. That made you heart flutter.

_No. Stop it! They’re not humans… They’re…!_

What are they? You don’t know the answer. The matriarch has the same traits as the Tyrants, but also has traits of the folkloric creatures of the night: the vampires. Her daughters have traits that vaguely remember you to humans infected by a virus, but also the same vampiric traits as their mother. They need blood for sustenance, they have very sharp fangs, and the light of the sun hurts them. The screams of fear that came from the Dimitrescu girls when a maiden opened the curtains of one of the dining halls still put your hairs on an end. The maiden soon disappeared, and a new bottle of wine appeared on the lady’s table at dinner the day you were allowed to roam freely in the castle with the condition that you have to share meals with the family. Thankfully, you’re fed with human food and Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t force you to drink blood nor eat the raw meat that her daughters tear with their bare hands, devouring it as if they were starving animals. You don’t have the stomach to ask where the meat comes from, but you have a vague idea. Perhaps the cooked meat you’re eating is not what you think.

At the prospect that there’s no escape from the castle, you make a decision. You’ll try to interact with the family in an attempt to gather information about them, besides exploring all the castle’s rooms and corners. You silently pray that the thought that has been bothering these days doesn’t come true. You wouldn’t stand that.

“Alright… Time to go”, you say to yourself.

You go to the bathroom and open the faucets of the porcelain white and blue bathtub. The water bounce against the bottom surface of the bathtub, splashing your hands. You shiver at the freezing touch of the water. That’s the only reason why you find unpleasant to take a bath in the morning because the water comes out cold and you have to wait too long until it comes out hot and then you have to adjust the temperature, so you don’t burn yourself when you plunge into the water. Once the water finally starts to come out hot, you close the taps and open them little by little until you hum, satisfied with the water’s temperature. Not too hot, not too cold.

You take a towel from the bathroom’s drawer and put it on the stool next to the bathtub. After that, your gaze roams to the cabinet where the bath scent bottles are stored. Your fingertips slide on the surface of the bottles until they stop on a bottle that contains a fluid of a dark shade of purplish-blue that looks almost black if you don’t pay attention to the color. You read “ _Lividus Sanguis_ ” written in a cursive letter on the label. _Bluish blood_ , you translate. You open the bottle, expecting the metallic stench of blood, but a soft lavender scent fills your senses. You recognize the scent, is the same as Lady Dimitrescu’s perfume: intoxicating, injecting you a lingering sense of danger and mystery, which tenses your nerves every time the lady of the castle passes next to you, her height towering you as she looks down to meet your eyes with an intense gaze that you can’t describe with words. Burning flames wandering in an ocean of stars. The things that she makes you feel with her sole presence are bizarre, to say at least. You close the bottle and put it again in the cabinet. The bottle next to this one catches your attention. The fluid is white as milk, but with dark dots and petals floating. You take the bottle, curious, and read the label.

 _Lilium Candidum_.

You hum. That’s the latin name that receives the Madonna lily, commonly known as white lily. You open the bottle and smell the scent. A wave of serenity, even yearning, hits your core. The scent of the white lilies is strong, but you recognize traces of a subtle vanilla scent. You pour the content of the bottle in the bathtub. The white lilies’ petals float quietly along the water’s surface. You enter the bathtub after letting the bottle in the cabinet. You sit, bending your knees against your chest. Outside the bathroom you hear the muffled chants of the birds announcing the dawn. You smile. It has been a long time since the last time you felt so calm. The castle and its habitants are a constant menace and you’re always on the edge, but you’re grateful that you can have a moment of peace for yourself.

You take a couple petals between your hands, letting the water slide between your fingers. As you observe the water falling you think about what you’re going to do that day. You’ve explored some of the chambers of the castle, most of them locked or empty, aside the luxurious furniture that’s placed in each chamber. However, the castle is so large that it’s going to take you weeks, even months to investigate each place. The other day you heard Lady Dimitrescu telling to one of her daughters that she was going to be in the library reading. You’re curious to see what the Dimitrescu’s library looks like, you imagine an ancient and decrepit place that’s about to collapse due to the centuries of abandon, piles of dusty books waiting for someone to read them for the first time in years. The lilies are crushed in your palms before they fall to the water. The idea of exploring the library is tempting, but you finally decided to explore the courtyard now that the snow is gone and the entrance to what it seems to be a mausoleum isn’t obstructed.

A knock on the bathroom’s door disturbs you.

“Human, mom is waiting for you. It’s time for breakfast”, you recognize Lavinia’s gentle voice.

You sigh in resignation. God, you’ve been awake for less than 20 minutes and that bitch is already claiming you. You rub your eyes. Well, what did you expect? You’re her… prisoner? You’re not sure what’s your status in the castle now that you’re not locked in the cellar anymore. But you’re still in her dominions, so she has full control over you despite that you have permission to roam freely as long as you don’t overstep some lines.

“Human, if you don’t get out of the bathroom, I’ll break down the door.”

You yelp in surprise at the sudden loud buzzing of a swarm.

“Wait-! Give me sec!”, you yell, getting up from the bathtub and taking the towel you left on the stool to cover your body before Lavinia fulfills her threat.

“Just… give me a moment, okay? I’ll be in the dining hall in five minutes.”

You listen carefully, waiting for Lavinia’s answer. The buzzing sound of the bugs is no longer heard. Instead, you hear Lavinia’s step walking away from the door.

“Five minutes, human”, she says before leaving your room.

You lean your head back. Suddenly the atmosphere becomes oppressive, your breathing falters. The realization that you have to confront Lady Dimitrescu after yesterday’s incident makes your blood run cold. There’s no doubt that she’s going to punish you one way or another during breakfast, probably forcing you to eat raw meat, drink the Sanguis Virginis or, even worse, eat on the floor, lapping the wine spilled on the marble surface. That would fit with the nickname she gave to you.

_Pet._

You’re her pet and nothing more. If she wants, she’ll put a collar around your neck and tug the leash to make you walk on all fours behind her immaculate form. If she wants, she’ll rip your clothes and chain you to a wall to whip your back until you fall unconscious at the unbearable pain of the slashes. If she wants, she’ll turn you into her most treasured Sanguis Virginis. But instead of all those things, she prefers to treat you in accordance to your nature. Like a human being. You don’t know if that terrifies more than if she tortured and killed you like every person that trespassed the castle’s doors. She must be desperate to know who or what are you. Desperate or her curiosity has no limits.

You get out of the bathtub, not bothering to lose your time arranging the bathroom, you’ve already lost too much time and Lavinia is probably about to arrive to your bedroom again and drag you through the corridors.

After leaving the bedroom, you put the undergarments and button up your pants. Then, you take the vintage shirt from your vanity chair, the touch of the fabric makes you smile a bit. You’re grateful that, despite how many times Daniela ruins your shirt when you two get involved in a fight your blood ends splashed in your clothes and the furniture around you, Lady Dimitrescu always manages to give you another shirt exact to the previous ones instead of giving you any other piece of clothes. You button the cuffs and tug the shirt into your pants. Finally, before putting the saddle boots that you despise, you tie the girdle around your waist. It feels weird to wear a girdle because it makes you look like you’ve stepped out of a Baroque painting, but you don’t complain at all. The girdle isn’t uncomfortable, besides is really beautiful, garnet silk made, with gold embroidery of vines and roses. Once you’re done, you look in the mirror again. Your white bangs are on the way again, you grunt annoyed with your hair. If you had at least a lace you would tie your hair, but there’s nothing in your chambers that you can use to tie the hair, and you refuse to ask Lady Dimitrescu for something to tie your hair. She’ll probably chuckle at your silly petition and then tease you about that the cat hasn’t got your tongue with a devilish smirk on the corner of her lips.

 _Fuck off_.

You tuck the loosen strands behind your ear, now angry for thinking about that damned woman that puts you on your nerves. You take a deep breath and leave the bedroom.

As you walk through the endless corridors of the castle you run your fingers over the elegant walls. You couldn’t say in which art style you would classify the decoration of the white as snow walls, profusely decorated with reliefs made of gold that stand out against the white stucco. Hanging on the wall there are small chandeliers, symmetrically disposed in such way that there’s a chandelier every 20 steps; you counted them the first time you left your chambers to explore the castle, in an attempt to draw a mental map of the place to not get lost. However, what always takes your breath away are the marble sculptures.

The exorbitant number of sculptures that there are in the castle is absurd, as there aren’t only marble busts in the corridors, but there are also sculptures on the walls themselves, as if the figures were emerging from them, imploring help to those who pass near them, a deep grief carved on their faces. A disturbing thought crosses your mind: what if these sculptures represent those who died within the castle’s walls? You take your hand off the wall, suddenly feeling sick. You stop on your tracks as you realize that you’re in front of Lady Dimitrescu’s chambers. The tormented caryatids that hold the door’s ornated lintel remind you the fate that sooner or later will await in the hands of Lady Dimitrescu. You pass by, speeding the pace of your steps until you finally arrive at the staircase of the main hall. You narrow your eyes at the tinkling light that comes from the huge glass chandelier that hangs on the ceiling, situated at your eyes level. You start to go down the staircase, your hand carefully touching the waxed cedar wood of the banister when a buzzing sound announces you that one of the Dimitrescu girls is coming to you. Before you can turn around the swarm pushes you down the stairs with an unusual force. You grip the banister, but that doesn’t prevent you from luxate your shoulder and end losing your balance. You growl in pain when you break your nose against a step.

“Fuck you, Daniela!”, you yell angry, squashing a tiger mosquito that flies nearby. The feeling of your nose’s bones healing irks you, but you clench your jaws in wrath, seeing that this shirt too is ruined with bloody stains. Daniela’s giggles fill the air as she materializes in front of the dining hall’s door and opens it. “I’m going to tell this to your mother and she’s going to fucking beat you, you shithead!”

Daniela smirks, entering in the dining hall and leaving the door open. You run behind her, ready to yell at Lady Dimitrescu what her daughter has done. However, your voice doesn’t leave your mouth, startled at the sight of Lady Dimitrescu’s empty chair. As soon as Irina sees you, she starts to tear her raw meat and engulf it making loud noises. Lavinia frowns at the sight of your bloody face and shirt.

“What happened-?”

“Where’s she?”, you interrupt Lavinia.

Daniela mischievously giggles as she takes her seat on the table.

“Mother isn’t going to join us. What happened yesterday?”, Daniela asks. “She was soooo damn mad when she told us that you had been a naughty girl.”

_Naughty.. girl?!_

You unintentionally flush at the words. What was that woman thinking to call you _that_?! You ignore Daniela and look at Lavinia.

“You said she was waiting for me.”

Lavinia shyly smiles, averting her gaze from you.

“Sorry, mom ordered me to bring you here, so I had to lie because I know that you wouldn’t come if mom’s not here.”

You want to argue, but your eyes widen at the realization that in fact you wouldn’t had come here if you knew that Lady Dimitrescu wasn’t going to be here. You fidget in the corner of the dining hall, uneasy at the fact that perhaps you enjoy Lady Dimitrescu’s presence despite everything she had done. What’s wrong with you?

“Okay, now that this scum’s hopes and dreams had been crushed”, Daniela mockingly says, the same devilish smirk as her mother on the corner of her lips, “can we please eat? This brat has already finished her food”, she points to Irina who’s licking the trail of blood that falls from her mouth. Lavinia nods, taking a kidney and putting it in her mouth. You sit in your chair, placed at the other end of the table, opposite to where Lady Dimitrescu always sits. You take the cup of tea. The sisters stop eating, the three of them looking at you expectantly. You look at them confused, bringing the cup to your lips until the faint smell of blood masked under the smell of raspberry’s hits your nose. You put the cup on the table with shaky hands. They gave you Lady Dimitrescu’s favorite tea. Raspberry tea intermingled with fresh blood. Fuck. Is this her punishment? You lift the lid of the plate, now expecting some raw meat or organs, but what’s on the plate is even more disgusting: a mass of insects of various kinds. The insects are alive. You cover the plate again, trying to maintain a neutral expression that doesn’t let room to the girls to know that you’re about to puke.

“Mom wants you to know that this is your punishment for what happened yesterday. Choose to feed with blood and dirt or to starve until you beg her”, the elder sister says. You look at Lavinia with glassy eyes. You’re tired of everything, you just want to run away and hide in a place that no one knows. A place without pain, sorrow and guilt. A place in which Umbrella hasn’t spread their horrors, in which Blue Umbrella hasn’t have their eyes laid on. It wasn’t enough to survive your father’s torment, to be abandoned by your mother? It wasn’t enough to carry the guilt of the survivor, the guilt of perhaps had being your mother’s ruin? No, you had to end in this goddamned place lost in the middle of Romania. You had to end chained to this castle with invisible bonds. You had to met her and push all her buttons until she burst and decided to make your life a living hell like all the people who were here before you. Your chest burns, the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You rise precipitately from the chair, throwing it to the floor. The girls look at you startled at your sudden reaction. Daniela grips your wrist before you could leave the dining hall, but she releases the grip when Lavinia gives her a sharp glare. You run away and make your way to the back courtyard of the castle. As soon as you open the doors and put a step outside you fall on your knees, feeling the cold air of the last winter’s day hitting your face. Your sobs are so intense that you’re sure every inhabitant of the castle is hearing them, but you don’t care about that. You don’t care about anything anymore.

You remain kneeled until your sobs fade away. You rub your eyes, wiping the last tears that are falling down your cheeks. You take a deep breath, getting up off the floor and looking around you. The back courtyard is not as huge as the front courtyard but is still large. The first thing that catches your attention is the structure that’s on the center of the courtyard, formed by a glass cupule held by a system of four round arches and strong iron pillars. The structure reminds you of a baldachin, a type of small shrine formed by four columns that’s usually placed over an altar or a sacred place. Around this peculiar shrine there are four flowerbeds, one on each corner of the courtyard, delimited by grey stone balustrades and small pillars. Between each flowerbed there’s a path that leads to the shrine.

As you move forward to the shrine and you climb the steps you notice that on both sides of the paths and in the interior of the flowerbeds there are unlit torches, placed asymmetrically. You stare at the torches from the center of the shrine, trying to make sense at the strange disposition of the torches, but you quickly ignore it when you the Dimitrescu’s coat of arms carved on the floor. The relief is weathered by the flow of time and the clemencies of the weather. You look up and see that the path to your left leads to the building that you think is a mausoleum. With each step you take towards the door, you feel smaller, dazzled by the impressive relief carved on the marble gate. You touch its surface, holding your breath as you run your fingers over the central figure, a woman seated on a throne with lion-headed armrests and a footstool at her feet. The woman is dressed in a large cloak that covers her eyes. You notice some marks on the woman’s cheeks that look like tears. On her right hand she’s wielding a flamberge rapier with a rose-shaped hilt, pointing towards the scene under her, that represents Hell as you deduce by the flames and monsters that are tearing a group of human figures. The plates of the scales that she holds on her left hand aren’t balanced. On one of the plates there’s a heart and on the other a rose. Over the woman you read an inscription in latin.

“Only the light of the stars will balance the scales, so that death will judge us as a just judge of vengeance", you murmur. Your eyes shine in awe by the beauty of those macabre words.

You lean your body against the gate, pushing it to open it, but the gate doesn’t move at all. You take a step back and carefully scan the door searching for a keyhole or a mechanism, but there’s nothing of that. You place your hands on the relief, running your fingers over it just in case there’s some hidden switch. You frown in frustration. There’s no keyhole, no mechanism, no buttons. There’s nothing at all. You pinch your nose. There’s no way that it’s a fake gate, it must be that inside the mausoleum there’s something important that Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t want anyone to find. You look at the relief again, your eyes narrow, trying to find any clue that you could had overlooked. When you read the inscription one more time, you notice the stars carved over the woman, each one of them of a different shape. But there’s something odd about them because they seem not to only trace a pattern, but to have a tiny hole on them.

“Only the light of the stars will balance the scales…”, you whisper to yourself. Your eyes roam from the stars to the scales. You gasp. The pattern that the stars are tracing is the constellation of Libra. The gate will open when the scales are balanced, but only the light of the stars can do that…

You rapidly turn around. The torches of the courtyard. You look at them, your heart racing. There are more torches than number of stars in the Libra’s constellation, but some of the torches are aligned, forming the shape of the constellation. Without thinking twice, you grab the torch that hangs on the gate’s frame and walk in hurry to light the courtyards torches. When you light the first one, you see that a tiny flame appeared on one of the stars of the relief. There’s a huge grin on your face.

“You’re a fucking genius, Y/N”, you congratulate to yourself, lighting the remaining torches until you hear a loud noise and move your eyes to the direction of the noise. You tremble with excitement when you see the gate opening. You return to the gate and hang the torch on its place.

When you enter the mausoleum, your eyes take a little while to adjust to the darkness of the place, illuminated only by the dim light that comes from a tiny window. The light bathes a small altar in the center of the room. You blink surprised at the sight of twin rapiers placed on the altar. Is that what Lady Dimitrescu was trying to hide with that intricate constellation puzzle? You look around, searching if there’s anything of interest besides the old rapiers of the altar, but there are only a couple of funeral urns in some niches and three empty coffins. You sigh in resignation. Perhaps you expected too much, and the only important thing are the rapiers that aren’t interesting for you.

But when you’re about to leave the mausoleum you hear a heartbeat.

You stop dead on your tracks, your eyes widen in surprise. Did you hear a… heartbeat? You hold your breath so you can hear the heartbeat again. It’s coming from under the window. There’s a closed coffin under the window. The twin rapiers piercing a rose of the coat arms of House Dimitrescu is carved on the coffin’s surface. You take a step closer, your own raging heartbeat breaking the deafening silence of the mausoleum.

And then you notice the sudden heavy darkness that falls on the room.

When you turn around at the lingering feeling of danger behind you, a hand grips your throat and lifts you up. You dig your fingers against the hand that’s gripping you. You your veins are heavy pounding at the pressure of your attacker’s fingers tightening around your throat. You shiver in terror under the frenzy gaze of Lady Dimitrescu, her eyes red as the thick wine she drinks instead of her familiar golden ones. She’s heavy breathing. Where did she come? You didn’t hear her footsteps coming to you.

“What are you doing here, _pet_ ”, she spits on a low howl. “How did you enter here?”

“If you release the grip… I’ll explain it, please”, you manage to say, your eyes glassy and your chest burning at the lack of oxygen. You feel your mind going dizzier until you fall to the ground. The sharp breath you take hurts your lungs and you let out a cry of pain. You look up massaging your neck. You thank the gods that Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes are no longer red, but golden as always. She’s fidgeting, trying to not clench her fists nor sink her teeth on the surface of her leather gloves. “The inscription on the gate… Libra…”, you gasp for more air. “That’s how I-”

“Of all the places in the castle, why did you come here?”, she cuts your words in a raspy tone.

“To be honest, because I’ve never been in this courtyard and I was curious about the mausoleum”, you reply, still on the ground. Lady Dimitrescu narrows her eyes, clearly distrustful of your answer. “Listen, I swear I was just curious and to find that you had to open the gate with such intriguing puzzle didn’t help. I don’t know what’s inside here that you want to hide at all costs, but I’m sorry if I stepped the line, I don’t want to make you angry you anymore. Not after what happened yesterday-”

You suddenly shut up, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You’ve just apologized to her.

Lady Dimitrescu is as taken aback as you. She’s about to say something, but instead of that she moves her index finger, indicating you to get up and follow her. You obey her in silence, and she closes the heavy gate behind you without effort.

“I’ll turn a blind eye to the fact that you broke into the mausoleum without permission if you don’t ever lay your feet on it. Did I make myself clear?”, she asks in a menacing tone. You nod. “Good girl”. You avert her gaze at the hearing of that compliment. You know she’s teasing, trying to push your buttons the way you did with her all this time. You follow her long strides through the courtyard until you enter the castle. You sigh at the warm that comes from the main hall’s fireplace.

Suddenly your stomach loudly growls, making you flush in embarrassment. You look at Lady Dimitrescu, who has raised her eyebrows. She doesn’t say anything, but you can see the ghost of a smile on her lips. She turns around and walks away, looking over her shoulder to see if you’re following her. Seeing that she’s expecting you to follow her, you take a step up. You shouldn’t be following her, you shouldn’t be obeying her. But that morning you made the decision to interact with the family to gather information about them. This is your only chance to approach the lady itself. You don’t know what awaits to you, but you have the feeling that you made some progress with her. For the first time, you answered a question of hers without mocking words. Without calling her a monster.

And Lady Dimitrescu noticed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that you liked the constellation puzzle, I freaking love to design puzzles and I thought it would be interesting to add puzzles in some chapters of the fic because they're usual in the Resident Evil games, so.... yeah, expect a couple more puzzles in the future lol
> 
> And if you think Alci is now in good terms with reader...... don't expect her to be gentle and a lovebird soon 
> 
> In next chapter reader will continue to explore the castle and know more details about her own lineage!
> 
> Note: I don't know when I'm going to post the next chapter, but I'll try to update the fic weekly, at least until I finish uni. After that I'll probably be able to update it twice a week.


	5. Fracta Gens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes you too many years to leave your past behind despite how painful it's. However, your stay at the castle will bring you some terrifying revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what the heck I wrote but I needed to write this down after changing a lot of things again (sorry, my brain is chaotic evil, but I swear that I'm not changing the overall plot, it took me too much time to settle the worldbuilding that I don't want to rewrite it ahsgdhjasdgf)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter too!
> 
> Title's translation: "Broken Bloodline"
> 
> Note: the events of this chapter happen the same day of the previous chapter!

Lady Dimitrescu breathily chuckles seeing your confused look when you two pass her chambers.

“What?”, she asks without slowing her strides. “Did you think that I was going to lead you to my chambers? Mmmh”, she joyful hums, “I don’t know what I should think about this. But I won’t say I didn’t expect you to be so straight forward.”

It takes you a few moments to realize the implication of her words.

“Who the hell you think I’m?!”, you talk back, almost growling. The growing heat of your cheeks denotes your embarrassment. The shadow of mirth dances on Lady Dimitrescu’s honey eyes.

“That you’re _my_ pet”, she replies, opening the large wooden doors in front of her. You’ve just reached the end of the corridor.

The simplicity of her answer leaves you dumbstruck. But as soon as the words enter one of your ears, they leave through the other as your heart skips a beat at the view of the towering sculpture that receives both of you in the parlor. The figure of a hooded woman lifting the chin of a naked girl as other two naked girls pierce with a short sword and a lance the body of a fourth girl that lays on the ground. You swallow the lump on your throat, mesmerized and terrified by the scene.

“Do you like what you see?”, the familiar velvet voice asks. You don’t reply, captivated by the beauty of the sculpture, but Lady Dimitrescu takes it as an affirmative answer. “We know this sculpture as _Death and the vengeful maidens_. Is a reminder to everyone that enters this castle what awaits for them”, she says with a dark chuckle. You shiver at the statement, but the maid that has frozen near to the chandelier she was cleaning is shivering even more than you. You blink in surprise, you didn’t expect to see another maid, besides the one that brings your food to the table. Lady Dimitrescu approaches the frightened maid, leaning a bit so she’s looking at her eyes level. You follow her, stepping next to her.

“Bring the raspberry tea, but without the _special_ ingredient”, you notice the maid’s trembling lips at that word, “and also…”, Lady Dimitrescu looks at you in silence. The maid’s nervous gaze roams between you and the lady of the castle. You look back at Lady Dimitrescu, not knowing what’s going on. “Pet, what do you want to eat?”

You stiffen at the unexpected question. Is she really going to allow you to eat or is she giving you false hope before giving you a proper punishment?

“Uh, a slice of bread and… some cheese would be okay. Thank you”, you answer, looking at the maiden instead of Lady Dimitrescu. The girl doesn’t look at you in the eye, her gaze fixed to her fidgeting hands, but you notice her shock at your unexpected gratefulness.

“You heard her. Now, get out of my sight”, Lady Dimitrescu snarls. The maiden nods and hastily leaves the parlor. You frown, not pleased with Lady Dimitrescu’s rudeness.

“You know, it won’t hurt you to be a bit nicer with your maids.”

Lady Dimitrescu opens the cabinet’s glass doors and picks up a long cigarette holder alongside a beautiful cigarette case made of ivory with floral patterns and the coat of arms of House Dimitrescu carved in red on its surface. She must really love the coat of arms of her house, you see it everywhere. She opens the case and raises an eyebrow, looking at you. You shake your head, declining her silent offer. Lady Dimitrescu hums as she picks a cigarette and puts it into the holder. After leaving the case inside the cabinet again, she takes an ornated silver zippo. You admire the apparent antiquity of the zippo, the burnt marks on the place where the gas comes out and combusts, the thin and elegant lines of the rose-shaped pattern worn out where the fingers touch the zippo. You wonder how many times she used it through her apparently long life. Lady Dimitrescu puts the holder to her lips, the way she sucks the tip makes you feel… weird. You slowly avert your gaze when you notice she’s staring at you intently as she lights the cigarette, the lingering smoke rosing to the ceiling making her look so alive. So human. You bite your tongue, suddenly anxious, digging your nails into your palms. Lady Dimitrescu takes a long and deep puff. You hold your breath until she releases the smoke sighing.

“Why should I be nice with them when after a week they leave us?”

Lady Dimitrescu approaches the window, turning her back at you. Your heart is racing. You know very well that Lady Dimitrescu turns her maidens into bottles of Sanguis Virginis, but to hear her say that makes you shiver. The image of the mangled girl you found drowned in her own blood inside a barrel, her eyes gone from her eye sockets flashes right in front your eyes. Your mouth goes dry at the uneasy feeling crawling your back.

“Oh, and I completely forgot to mention it before but don’t think that I didn’t notice your shirt. The stench is strong enough to not ignore it”, she says, taking another puff.

Your shirt? What’s wrong with your shirt…?

_Oh shit._

You feel the sticky touch of the fabric stained with your blood against your skin.

“Did Daniela ruin this shirt too?”

Your blood booms in your ears. You want to yell at Lady Dimitrescu that her youngest daughter is a maniac that pushed you down the stairs. But at the same time, you’re having second thoughts about snitching Daniela. If you don’t accuse her, perhaps she’ll bear it in mind the time you decide to approach her. But if Lady Dimitrescu finds out that you lied to her, the effort you’re making with her will be blown away.

Before you could answer, you hear a faint knock on the door.

“Come in”, Lady Dimitrescu replies.

The door opens and the maiden enters pushing a tea cart. With shaky hands she sets the tea pot and the cups on the round table. When she pours the tea, you pray that the poor girl doesn’t spill the beverage, you wouldn’t like to see her being choked, or worst, being killed by Lady Dimitrescu. You breathe in relief when she finishes pouring the tea without spilling it, but you stiffen, worried about the girl, when she gives the filled cup to Lady Dimitrescu. The woman is staring daggers at her, her chin slightly lifted menacingly, the golden of her eyes sparking under the smoke curtain of her cigarette.

“You brainless creature”, she spits. “Do you think I’m going to drink this shit without _the_ ingredient?”

“N-no, Mistress…! I-I’m sorry”, the girl stammers. You fear that she’ll black out in any moment due to the stress. “Do you want me t-to bring the…?

“Did I told you to bring the ingredient?”, Lady Dimitrescu cuts her words. The maid shakes her head. “No, right? So, put your remaining braincells to work and think who the tea is for.”

The maiden steps back and looks at you terrified. Before she turns to you too suddenly, risking spilling the tea all over the rug and infuriating the lady even more, you approach her and take the cup from her hands. You flinch at the too hot touch of the cup, but you manage to keep your composure. You smoothly move to your left in such a way that your body shields the maid from any possible aggression from Lady Dimitrescu. You look over your shoulder, expecting that she’s going to give you a cold glare at the sight that you’re defying her authority by silently siding with the maid. You know that she’s not going to say anything, aware that if she speaks, you’ll retort and that would undermine her authority in front of the maid eyes because she’ll see that you, a human, aren’t under the yoke of the lady of the castle. You’re sure that this rebellious act will have consequences, but you couldn’t bear the situation anymore, you’re not going to allow her to hurt a human in front of you.

However, despite what happened, Lady Dimitrescu isn’t giving you the cold glare. Instead, she seems bemused, her gaze unfocused as if she’s having an internal conflict. After some seconds of awkward silence, she looks at the window again, dismissing the maid with a gesture of her hand. You hear the lump in the maid’s throat being hard swallowed. She again averts her eyes from you when you look at her.

“Thank you for the tea and the bread and cheese I asked for”, you add with a reassuring smile as you notice the plate of food on the tea cart. The maid rises her gaze at your words, her eyes glassy and the shadow of shock on them. She slightly bows at you before hastily leaving the parlor.

When you hear the door’s clicking, you turn around to confront Lady Dimitrescu. She’s staring at you again. The remains of the steaming cigarette are consumed little by little until it’s extinguished and the ashes slowly fall to the floor.

“Say it”, the raspy voice of Lady Dimitrescu demands to you.

You steady your grip around the cup of tea until your hands stop trembling. You take a sip, not averting your gaze from Lady Dimitrescu. The hot beverage goes down your throat, warming your body as the scent of raspberry fills your senses.

“What are you waiting for? Say the word”, the older woman’s impatience grows at every second that passes.

You take your time to finish drinking your tea. The fabric of Lady Dimitrescu’s dress wrings at the movement of her tense muscles. You don’t want to admit it, but you admire Lady Dimitrescu’s toned arms. Unconsciously, your eyes roam from her arms to her thighs, hugged in the right places by the dress. Dammit, she’s more buffed than you, how does she have that sculptural body despite her fearsome height?

You choke on your tea, realizing that you’ve been staring at her thighs too intensely. You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure so Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t notice what just happened.

_God, what’s wrong with me?_

“Pet”, Lady Dimitrescu snarls, snapping you from your deepest thoughts.

You leave the cup on the table and took the slice of bread with cheese. You hear her steps coming to you, approaching you in just two strides. You bite your lips, suppressing the smirk that’s tugging on the corner of your lips. You find amusing the childish impatience she manifests sometimes.

“Instead of that I’m going to say”, you pause, biting a piece of bread and swallowing it, “that you’re an asshole, ma’am, and I can’t believe I’m here talking with you right now as if you hadn’t killed people and drank their blood. Jeez, you’ve even drunk my blood.”

You blink in surprise at the sudden laugh that comes from her cherry-wine lips. Did she find funny your words?

“Asshole?”, she says incredulously. “I think you’re the first person in my life that calls me like that.”

You finish eating your food and put the plate on the table.

“Well, I’m surprised because you’re really an asshole treating your maids like shit and doing all that shady stuff.”

Lady Dimitrescu crosses her arms, tilting her head. She looks at you curious and amused in equal parts.

“Less than 24 hours ago the cat had your tongue and you called me _monster_ ”, the word lingers at the tip of her tongue. “But now you can’t say the word and you’re being talkative? I wonder what changed your mind.”

You hold the gaze. The bread crunches in your mouth as you chew it. Deep down you’re aware that Lady Dimitrescu isn’t a fool. She’s many things, but none of them to be a fool.

“I know you’re up to something, but I’ll let it slip for now”, Lady Dimitrescu finally says. She opens the cabinet doors and stores the cigarette holder inside. “But let’s see if you’re eager to continue being that talkative”, she says picking a bottle of wine; you recognize the ornate bottle decorated with a beautiful and intricate flower pattern made with silver.

_Sanguis Virginis._

You swallow, suddenly feeling anxious at the prospect that she’s finally going to force you to drink that aberrant thick liquid. You’re constantly on the edge, not knowing if she’s going to punish you in any moment.

“Take a look at the envelope that’s on the table. I think it’s yours.”

Your eyebrows furrow in visible confusion, but you do as she asks. You carefully open the envelope, but as soon as you take out the content it slightly crumples between your fingers.

The photograph.

Is the photograph you were thinking about earlier this morning.

“If it weren’t for the hair color and the antiquity of the photograph, I would had thought that it was you.”

You hear the noise of the Sanguis Virginis being poured in a cup. Your jaw aches at how tightly you’re clenching it.

“I believe she’s your mother, right?”

The velvet voice of Lady Dimitrescu pierces your ears. Your breathing is heavy. You slide your thumb over your mother’s face. Same olive eyes, same strong jawline as you. You’ve asked to yourself too many times –so many that you’ve lost track of the count– what happened to your mother between the day she took this photograph, many years before you were born, and your first blurry memories about her. As much as you crumb your brain, you can’t recall a moment in which she smiled. The only time when you saw her smiling was when you found the photograph in the file about your family. Blue Umbrella never found that you stole it from the file, not believing what you were seeing.

_Status: unknown. An anonymous source reported that she’s alive. No consistent evidence was found to believe that report._

The words marked in red still burn in your mind. She may be dead, or she may be alive. But, if she’s alive, she truly didn’t care about you ever. She didn’t bother to try to find you when Umbrella fell down and the news of your father’s demise were spread.

The taste of blood coming from your lips snaps you from your thoughts. You were biting them too hard.

“Mh, I was right then.”

The sound of the wine falling down to the cup slowly fades away. You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s lips brushing against the cup’s edge followed by the murmur of the flowing wine moving as the woman drinks it. A soft hum of approval parts from her throat.

“Tell me, pet”, Lady Dimitrescu leaves the empty cup on the table to pour more Sanguis Virginis in it. “Do you want to keep it? I have the feeling that’s a painful reminder of something about your mysterious past.”

A flame of anger sparks inside your chest.

The photograph is indeed a painful reminder of your past but is the only thing that ties you with the past prior to your trauma. But the way she stated that, the mockery tone on the corner of her lips boils your emotions. She wouldn’t understand that, if the photograph disappears, your memories will disappear too. However, do you really want to remember what happened before _that_? You spent your childhood alone because your parents hardly were at home; your father because he spent day and night in the laboratory, your mother… What was your mother’s job? Did you know it at some point?

The possibility terrifies you, but perhaps… just perhaps, your mother was an Umbrella researcher too. Sometimes you have the feeling that you wish with all your heart that she belonged to Umbrella only to have another compelling reason to hate her.

“I’ll never understand why humanity loves to gatekeep the things that bring back memories- no, feelings that they rather would want to forget forever.”

You close your eyes at the sound of Lady Dimitrescu’s lips brushing the edge of the cup again. You picture a small river lost in the depths of the woods at the sound of the wine floating inside the cup. Lady Dimitrescu doesn’t comprehend, or she prefers to think that she doesn’t comprehend it, that humanity has always clung on to its memories, including the painful ones, for fear of losing something.

In your case for fear of losing yourself.

The photograph isn’t a reminder of your mother. Is a reminder that you were human, that you’re human. If you lose those blurry memories from the previous time before your skin was ashy, your teeth were atrocious fangs, your hands were deformed claws… If you lose them, all you’ll have are memories since the day you were an Umbrella creature and not yourself. If you lose them, you’ll feel like your whole life has been a lie or some twisted joke shaped in the hands of a god or the Devil itself.

You’ve never been a true believer –if God truly existed, they wouldn’t had allowed the excruciating agony you’ve been through for _too_ many years. Goddammit, you were just a kid and you had been forced to become an adult in the blink of an eye. They took your childhood away for the sole purpose of achieving Umbrella’s final dream.

Your stomach turns upside down.

What if… what if you’ve been a mere pawn since all your life? What if your parents raised you as a guinea pig?

What if they’ve never seen you as a human and just the germ of a future bioweapon, the so-called _perfect_ Tyrant?

Lady Dimitrescu gasps startled, mouth agape, at the deep howl that comes from you when you tear the photograph between your trembling fingers. Her eyes widen under the shadow of the long hat, following the tiny pieces of paper swinging in the air as they slowly fall down to your feet like the frozen snowflakes of the day you met her. The monumental sculpture whirls in front of you, your legs falter. You hold onto the table to not lose your balance and fall to the ground like a sack of rocks, the screeching sound of your nails raking the wooden surface makes your hair stand on end. The cold sweat drops run down your forehead, soaking your whole face until they fall from your jawline.

No.

Not now.

Why do you have to have an anxiety attack now, in front of _her_.

 _Why_.

Your attempt of trying to take a deep breath results in an animalistic cry parting from your lips. You have to get out of here before the attack worsens. You _must_ go out.

“Excuse me, but I must leave now”, you say without looking at Lady Dimitrescu.

“Where do you think you’re going, pet?”, she says, grabbing you by the arm. But as soon as she grabs your arm, she lets it go before you can snap her hand away. The white of your eyes has turned red, you rub them, uncomfortable at their itching. You run to the doors and open them in a swing, not bothering to close them behind you after you leave the parlor. You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s clicking heels coming to you, but you yell, making the clicking to stop. You run away like an eerie fawn being chased by a huntress goddess. But this time the huntress stands still, wondering silently if this time she pushed you over the edge too much.

* * *

You’ve lost the track of time, not knowing what time it’s –perhaps it’s already dinner time and the daughters are looking for you, pissed that their mother has sent them to find you and drag you to the dining hall against your will– nor where you’re. You’re lost in some part of the east wing of the castle. Or perhaps you’re in the west wing? You look out the window, trying to orient yourself with the sunlight, but the warm peachy colors of the day dwindled, progressively replaced by the cold lilac colors of the twilight. You lean your hands against the window, its freezing surface sending you shivers, as you try to take long deep breaths.

But the anxiety is still rooted in your chest, making it harder to breathe, to think clearly.

You remember an ancient myth about a demigod king, son of Zeus, that was punished to stand in a pool of water, famished and thirsty. Every time he tried to reach the fruit from a tree with low branches, the branches raised, not allowing him to grasp the coveted meal. Every time he tried to drink from the water of his prison, the waters receded before he could drink from them. Although you didn’t commit his crime –to kill his own child and serve him in the gods’ banquet– you feel like the Phrygian Tantalus, asphyxiating, drowning into a void, with the danger crawling on your back, the feeling that something, or someone, is going to dig a weapon into your heart. But you know that you’re safe in this place. Goodness, you’ve never been this safer despite Daniela’s menacing presence, preying you every time you cross paths with her alone. Every time she points her sickle towards you, Lady Dimitrescu appears from nowhere in silence, bringing the night within her, shielding you from any harm. But still, you feel like you’re in a serious danger.

You drag your feet along the corridors, leaning against the walls every few steps to catch your breath. After walking for a while, you reach the end of the labyrinthic corridors. You narrow your eyes in an attempt to focus your blurry gaze on the surroundings of the new lounge you’ve reached. It seems like another parlor, but the presence of a marble throne covered in crimson drapery standing out above the rest of the room catches your attention. You climb the few step to the throne, the rug thumps under your steps, and you sit on the throne without thinking. You’re so tired that you don’t care if you’re forbidden to sit there. You look around, noticing that the room isn’t too big to be considered a parlor, but it looks so regal because of the four statues placed in niches on the wall, one on each corner of the room. Compared to the menacing sculpture of the parlor where you’ve been previously, these sculptures aren’t astonishing; they’re even boring. You decide to not pay much attention to them.

You lean your head back, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling, ignoring the ornate door in front of the throne. Your chest still aches too much. You’re regretting having burn down the bridge that tied you with your past, but it was for the better. In fact, you should have to burned it down the day that at the eyes of the law you were no longer a Beneviento –you changed your name as soon as you came of age. What was the point of continuing to carry the surname of a family that you considered a stranger, of a family you hardly knew anything? You were determined to end your father’s bloodline. Then, why you didn’t muster the courage to finally move on? You’re your own persona, not your parents’ shadow, their broken puppet.

Better later than never, right?

You let your left cheek rest on your knees, wrapping them with your arms. You’re used to having anxiety attacks, you learned to control them over time, but this one is by far the worst anxiety attack you’ve ever had in your life.

Breathe in.

_Breathe out._

In the distance, the sound of a grandfather clock creeps through the silence within the castle walls. You close your eyes, unable to bear anymore the palpitations of your anxious heart trying to break your ribs. Every chime of the clock feels like a nail being dug in your coffin. You count the number of chimes. Eight. There’s still half an hour for dinner.

Then there’s the muffled sound of a swarm of bugs. No. There’s not only one swarm, you notice as the sound gets louder, filling the air as if the noise is coming above your head. At first you recognize the furious swarming of tiger mosquitos followed by a gentler swarming, perhaps moths taking the shape of their too gentle owner –you feel sympathy for Lavinia, she’s the calmest of the three daughters and the one that doesn’t try to do any malice towards you. Not yet–. Finally, a distinctive joyful giggle reaches your ears after the swarming of Irina’s horse-flies. Your eyes roam anxious, you feel them, you hear them everywhere, their low voices and sudden giggles echoing through the throne room. As soon as you look to your left, following the sound of Daniela’s raspy voice, her maniac giggling comes from your right, followed by Irina’s frantic chatter. But as soon as the sounds of the voices of Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters filled your senses, they vanished without trace. You’re sure that they didn’t even enter the room, that they didn’t realize that you were inside; Daniela would had thrown hands at you if she knew you were here alone, far away from her mother’s protection. You look around, trying to make sense of why you could hear not only the sisters but the grandfather clock, realizing that there aren’t any clocks in the room nor near it.

Your fingers hurt at the tightly grip you have around the armrests of the throne at the sudden sound of clicking heels, not noticing that you’ve pushed a switch. You jolt at the thunderous noise of something hatching from the floor. You raise from the throne, staring startled at the four pillars that appeared. You approach then cautiously, forgetting the clicking heels you've heard in the distance. The four pillars have the torso of a beheaded woman carved on their surface, a pair of what it seems to be wings coming from the women’s necks, encompassing the whole pillar. On the front of the pillars there are some marks that show numbers: on the pillars at your right there are the numbers one and three; on the left, the four and two. You turn around the pillars to see their back. On the back of each pilar there’s an image carved on the marble surface.

 _Coats of arms_ , you think as you quickly see the so familiar rose pierced by twin rapiers on the pillar with the number one. On number four there’s a horse in the middle of a horseshoe. In front of number four, on the pillar number two there’s a siren, or you think so seeing the hybrid creature, half woman, half fish. You return to the pillar with the Dimitrescu’s coat of arms to see the coat of arms on the pillar number three.

You freeze.

There’s a sun and a crescent moon merged together.

How is that…? No, it’s impossible. It must be a coincidence that the coat of arms resembles the seal that your father used to sign his documents. The shape of the celestial bodies were different, more simplified and without human faces.

Human faces… you’ve seen before a sun and a crescent moon crests with human traits. But where did you see them? In a Blue Umbrella’s report?

You look around you again, trying to find more clues, this time paying attention to the door. Over the door there’s a tympanum with five torches, one of them lit, the other four unlit.

Is another puzzle.

But this one is more enigmatic than the one you did that morning. There’s no inscription on the door nor on the pillars. You look at the sculptures. They portray kings from the Middle Ages by the look of their regalia, each one of them holding a different weapon. You approach the one that’s close to you. He’s holding a sword with a rose-shaped hilt. At the feet of the king there’s a small inscription, hardly visible due to the dust and the flow of time, but you manage to read the word “Dimitrescu”. You step back, looking at the other kings. They must be the key to open the door, you need to know to whom belongs each coat of arms, so perhaps that way you can learn what objects you may need to resolve the puzzle. You leave the Dimitrescu’s king and approach a king that’s holding a trident. You brush away the dust on the inscription to read the name “Moreau”. A trident, a weapon related to the Greek god of the sea. One of the coats of arms depicted a siren, so you wild guess that the coat of arms belongs to Moreau. The king that has the name “Heisenberg” engraved on the inscription is holding a horseshoe, so it’s clear that the horse coat of arms is from Heisenberg. Finally, the last king has in his hands what it seems to be an astral chart with a tiny sun and a crescent moon carved on its surface. You gulp, not sure what you expect to read on the inscription. The dust slowly fades away under your fingertips. You feel a dizziness when you see the first letter, which is too weathered that you don’t know if there’s only one letter (a B?) or even two letters, followed by an E and a N. But the inscription stops there, the missing letters gone, weathered as the first ones that it’s almost impossible to read them. You cover your mouth, suppressing a yelp of surprise.

No way.

No fucking way.

You now remember where you saw the human sun and moon crests. You’ve seen them in the Blue Umbrella’s report about the Arklay Mountains incident that started the beginning of Umbrella’s end. Those crests were part of a puzzle in the mansion of one of Umbrella’s cofounders.

Spencer’s mansion.

“But she…!”, you exclaim.

Is Lady Dimitrescu related to Umbrella, but not because she could be one of the pharmaceutic creatures, but an unknown cofounder? No that, wouldn’t make sense, you recall a conversation that you had when you were locked in the cellar in which Umbrella was the topic and she almost called them bastards. You saw the burning hate caged inside her eyes. A thought slithers inside your mind. What if Lady Dimitrescu was a cofounder of Umbrella and the other cofounders betrayed her and turn her into a bioweapon? But that wouldn’t explain the existence of Moreau and Heisenberg families, they’re not Umbrella’s cofounders, you don’t recall those names new to you in any report. But then, why is Spencer here?

You leave the room with racing heart. You don’t know in which part of the castle you’re, but you need answers from her. Now. You stop on your tracks seeing that it will take you too long to return to the part of the castle you know and find Lady Dimitrescu, so you opt to break one of the numerous flower vases that there around the castle and cut your left palm, hoping that at least Daniela teleports near you, attracted by the copper smell. But nobody comes.

“Fuck, I don’t have time for this shit! Irina, Lavinia, Daniela!”, you call them by their names. “If you can hear me, smell my blood, come here!”

You breathe relieved when you hear the buzzing sound of a swarm coming to you. Moths. Is Lavinia. As soon as the swarm takes the shape of the girl, you grab her by the shoulders, which makes Lavinia flinch in surprise at your bold movement.

“Human…?”

“Your mother!”, you exclaim. “Where’s your mother?!”

Lavinia frowns, a bit concerned about your frenzy demeanor.

“I don’t know…”, she says. You unconsciously tighten the grip around her shoulders, anxious at the response. “… but the last time I saw her she was in the parl-”

“The parlor with the sculpture of Death and the vengeful maidens?”, you cut her words, hope arising in your chest. Lavinia looks taken aback.

“How do you kn…? Never mind, yes”, she replies. “I saw her in that parlor-”

“Tell me how I can go to that parlor from there”; you cut her words again. She looks displeased at the fact you’re interrupting her words not once, but twice. “Please, Lavinia, is important. I’m not familiar with this part of the castle and I need to find Lady Dimitrescu as soon as possible.”

The girl tilts her head, curious at your plea and at the fact that you’ve called her mother by her name.

“Do you often get dizzy when you travel in a vehicle?”

“What? Lavinia, look, I don’t time for th-”

“Yes o no?”, she says, not hiding the smile that creeps from her lips, feeling satisfied to have interrupted you this time.

“No?”

As soon as you reply, Lavinia disintegrates in a swarm of bugs. You yell when the moths surround you until you can’t see or hear anything aside the noisy buzzing. Suddenly you feel that you’re being lifted from the ground, everything around you is moving too fast. You fall on your knees when the swarm splits out and takes again Lavinia shape.

“Go up the stairs and turn to your left, then follow the corridor that leads to your chambers until you reach the end, and you’ll find the parlor”, she says pointing at the upper floor with a shy smile on her lips. You look at her horrified, gasping for air. You notice that you’re in a familiar part of the castle, you recognize the chandelier that’s hanging above you.

“Did you transport me…?”

Lavinia nods.

“I- Thank you…?”, you say, feeling a bit dizzy.

“You’re welcome”, she says. “Now, go away before mom leaves the parlor.”

You get up from the floor and slightly nod at Lavinia before you run, following the way she indicated.

You don’t stop until you reach the end of the corridor and wide open the doors to find that the flames of the fireplace were extinguished and there’s no trace of Lady Dimitrescu, her lavender perfume not floating on the air anymore. Only the menacing sculpture receives you in the darkness. You’ve arrived too late.

“Dammit!”, you say aloud.

You rub your temples, trying to calm down. Okay, what you want to ask her is important, but you’re not going anywhere soon, and you’ll have plenty of opportunities to talk with her. Your question can wait until tomorrow, abruptly feeling utterly tired. You had a long and crazy day that seemed like everything happened in a whole week. You leave the parlor and close the doors behind you. You return to your chambers, not bothering to go to the dinning hall and see if they leave you some dinner, they surely finished a while ago when you were in the throne room, so they probably didn’t let you anything to eat.

However, a surprise awaits in your chambers when you see a plate with a couple slices of bread, cheese and fruit on the table, next to a cup of raspberry tea. You don’t smell the metallic stench of blood, so there’s no _special_ ingredient on the tea. You genuinely smile. Next to the plate you find a note too. You sit on the chair as you take the note and a slice of bread, chewing it. In the note, there's the next message written:

_Next time I’ll punish you for skipping dinner. But for now, rest well, pet._

_Countess Alcina Dimitrescu._

You carefully touch the black letters written in a beautiful cursive handwriting. You can’t help but blush reading her name.

 _Alcina_.

You swallow the bread you were eating, scheming a new plan. You’re not going to ask her about Spencer, you’ll gather the information about the families of the other coats of arms by yourself. It’s time to explore the castle’s library, hoping that you’ll find the answers you seek in there.

You take the grapes from the plate, thinking about what awaits you in the library the next day.

But at the back of your mind, you’re thinking that you don’t want to gather that information from Lady Dimitrescu, not because she could be wary about what you’re trying to achieve, but because you want to talk with her about topics that are less painful and that don’t make the conversation to abruptly end with you running away or being choked, your blood being drained from you.

You smirk wondering if you could beat her in a chess game, seeing that you managed to resolve the intricate constellation puzzle of the mausoleum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, cozily drinking my cup of coffee seeing how reader + the Dimitrescu gang are going to have several breakdowns in the next chapters before things get better: oh boi, do I love angst that much, don't I?
> 
> And yes, I said that Alci wasn't going to be gentle yet, but in the end she cares about reader's wellbeing because I'm gay, I'm so sorry
> 
> Oh, and I want to clarify that in the coats of arms puzzle, obviously the family of the sun/moon crest is the Beneviento one, not the Spencer one, but I had a feverish revelation and *rubs her gremlin hands evilly* wait for it


End file.
